Trauma
by BoomChick
Summary: Sephiroth and Cloud have gotten used to the dangers of each other's professions. But somehow, they had never realized that those same dangers applied to Zack Fair. Warnings for violence, torture, PTSD, starvation, and other potential triggers. Peripheral Sephiroth/Cloud and Zack/Aerith but predominantly Friendship!fic. Cover by Tomowowowo!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This story takes place in the same universe as Haunting, Stitches, Sickness, and Drain. However, it is not necessary to read those stories to understand this one! They'll just be referenced here and there. Thanks for reading!

**Warnings: **Torture references, PTSD, violence, some gore, blood, starvation, and other such triggers. Please remember to protect yourselves before all else!

Trauma (n)—_from Greek: A Wound  
__Traum_ (n)—German: _Dream_

**Chapter One**

He had not run so fast in years. Not since the war, when the long distances of Wutai stood before him. Not since a burst of sustained speed was all that stood between him and being obliterated by a fire bomb. Even that had not made his heart race like this sprint did. He raced down to the Third Class training rooms, and slammed the doors open before they could automatically part. The mechanisms cracked and groaned in displeasure at the violence.

"Cloud!" Sephiroth snapped the name, and did not even have the energy to spare to scold himself for being sharp.

Cloud whirled from where he'd been practicing against a punching bag, wearing only in his tank top and uniform pants, the Soldier's belt still gleaming new around his middle. His eyes widened when he saw Sephiroth standing in the doorway, and Sephiroth saw shock in his eyes. He must have looked like a whirlwind incarnate. He didn't care in the slightest.

"They found him." He bit the words out as quickly as he could, then shoved away from the door to start running again. Cloud had been his first stop, and he would make no more.

He heard the shouts of confusion from the other Thirds, but they weren't important. What was important was the sound of a pair of feet following him at a breakneck pace that was hopelessly slow compared to his own, but still as quick as they could be.

Sephiroth reached the stairwell and did not even pause to consider running down them one flight of steps at a time. He vaulted the railing and let gravity drive him downwards with all the speed it could. He landed in a crouch that still strained his knees. Sixty flights of stairs was a long way up.

"Seph." Called Cloud's voice above him, breathless but still easily heard.

Sephiroth lifted his head, and rose, nodding firmly to the blue eyes overhead as a blonde head peered over the stairs. Cloud vaulted after him with a grunt of effort, and plummeted. Sephiroth took one step to the left, and gave a short jump to meet him in the air before landing together and setting him on his feet. Then they were off again, running towards the transport area.

"He's alive?" Cloud gasped out behind him.

"It's bad." Sephiroth forced his panic back, made his legs move slower, forced himself to accept Cloud's sprint as enough speed. "He will live."

"How far out are they?"

"Two hours." Sephiroth said bleakly. "Driving as fast and safely as possible. No helicopter could reach them. They were in the forest."

Cloud, bless him for understanding, didn't ask why they were sprinting towards the transports when there was nothing they could do for another two hours. He didn't even slow down.

Sephiroth slowed to a stop when he came to the vast room that opened out into the transport area of Shinra. He stared out at the closed door to the enormous garage fixedly, and felt every piece of him quivering in tension. Cloud appeared at his shoulder a moment later, one of his hands lifting to grip Sephiroth's elbow. Which of them the grip was to support was unclear.

"he was in enemy hands?" Cloud asked softly, his voice thready. Sephiroth looked over, and found that from the look on Cloud's face he still could not tell how much of the weakness in his voice was from breathlessness.

"Yes." He replied grimly.

"He's been missing for weeks." The strain in Cloud's words was obviously emotional now, and his rosy cheeks had paled, leaving him looking sickly with shock.

"Two weeks, three days, fifteen hours." Sephiroth affirmed, aiming for a note in his voice that would not be too grim. "He was trained to withstand such things, Cloud."

"So was I." Cloud whispered. If anything, his face had grown darker at the reminder. "What the hell took so long?"

"Lack of information." Sephiroth rasped in reply. "Cloud, I did everything I could. And I don't doubt that the Turks did as well."

"I'm not blaming you." Cloud shook his head, squeezing Sephiroth's elbow. "I'm sorry. Did they tell you anything else?"

"That he was wounded, and they were working on healing him."

"Okay. Thanks for coming to get me."

"You'll stay?"

"Try to make me leave." Cloud pressed closer, ducking under Sephiroth's arm to press against his side. "It's been too long since I saw that idiot's face."

Sephiroth looked out towards the closed door, his eyes tightening at the corners with stress. He swallowed slowly, curling his arm around the man he relied upon.

"Please be okay, Zack." Cloud whispered at his side.

Silently, Sephiroth echoed the sentiment

They stood together silently for the first hour. Then the Turks arrived. Sephiroth noticed them the moment they stepped through the door, but if Cloud did, he didn't comment on it. Sephiroth slid his gaze over long enough to catch eyes with Tseng. The man's dark eyes were calm and silent. He shook his head slowly at Sephiroth's inquiring look. No new information.

Cloud shifted, stretched, then settled at Sephiroth's side again. His lips were pulled into a tight frown, and the waiting was obviously wearing on him. He was no better at staying in place and being patient than Sephiroth was. They were made for action. Most Soldiers were.

At least now they knew he was alive. The weeks before hand had been an endless litany of uncertainty—of stress that made them snap at each other, and desperation that drove them back together despite their petty arguments. It was unspeakably lonely with Zack away, in was that Sephiroth had not thought he would miss.

He wondered if Cloud had felt the same void, of if his had been more keenly painful, with the empty apartment he shared with the jovial First where he'd kept having to return to pick up just a few more clothes for one more day with Sephiroth.

It took an hour and forty six minutes. Sephiroth counted. That was remarkably good time for a trip as far as the coordinates he'd been given. When he spied the redheaded Turk behind the steering wheel he knew exactly why. Zack was bewilderingly popular with the Turks. Without their work, Sephiroth was unsure the young First would have been found at all.

At his side, Cloud stiffened a moment, frozen stock still before jolting forward. Sephiroth stopped him with a careful hand to his chest, holding him in place.

"Let the medics go first." He murmured. "We follow them. His safety takes precedence."

"Right." Cloud whispered in a voice that was painfully rough.

Sephiroth watched the transport doors open—Watched them maneuver out the stretcher. His heart sank as he realized part of him had been waiting—hoping—For a burst of laughter from the inert form on the stretcher.

Zack did not laugh. He did not move. From a distance, it was hard to catalogue his injuries. Sephiroth tried to pretend that the discoloration on his skin was just from grime. He tried to mentally explain away the dark circles around Zack's closed eyes and the taut paper-thin skin cracked over his lips. He tried not to notice the sickly glow about him that spoke of a body burning too much mako to compensate for exhaustion—starvation—brutality.

"Zack…" Cloud whispered beside him, trailing off into silence.

"He is resilient." Sephiroth spoke the words with a comforting intent, but they were as much for himself as for Cloud.

They followed the medics, and Tseng drifted behind them, pausing only long enough for Reno to fall into step just behind him. The Turks shadowed them in silence, and something about the quiet was deeply, horribly unnerving. Reno had been Sephiroth's company-required escort more than once. The redhead had never once been silent.

Medical was prepared. Cloud and Sephiroth followed only so far as the entryway, then they were stuck again, watching him be wheeled through. This time, at least, they had one thing to do. Sephiroth turned towards the Turks only a beat before Cloud did.

"You found him?" He asked, sharper than he'd meant to. Cloud's arm tightened around his waist in warning, and he bit the inside of his own cheek in rebuke.

Reno was fidgeting. It was a strange look on him. His blue eyes were hunted, wired. He glanced around the waiting room as though the sweep of his gaze would uncover a thousand traps and dangers.

"Yeah, yo." He muttered after a moment, fingers twitching as he forced them down to his sides. "Fucked up scene."

Tseng didn't argue the impromptu interrogation, but Sephiroth did take note that he slid a recorder out of his pocket and flicked it on silently.

"Where was he?" Cloud asked. Sephiroth was glad to be overridden. He knew the right answers to ask for a deposition. Not the right ones to ask for a friend. "Is he okay?"

"'Okay' is a really broad concept." Reno choked out with a laugh. "Really, really broad, yo. From Turk standards? He's okay. He's breathing, and it's not because someone's making him, so for that form of 'okay' yeah. He's okay."

"Reno." Tseng's voice was low and unusually gentle. It reminded Sephiroth of the quiet mutters he'd heard that the head Turk was soft on the redhead in ways that had nothing to do with professionality and everything to do with paternal instinct.

"I know." Reno's voice was biting as he replied, and his lips pulled back in frustration for a moment before he schooled his expression once more. "I know."

Cloud caught a breath at Sephiroth's side, and the General looked down in time to watch the younger man scrub his free hand roughly over his face, rejecting what must have been tears in his eyes. He forced his body to respond correctly, and gave Cloud a small squeeze, though in truth he felt nearly nothing himself. It was as though he had been hollowed out from inside.

"Calmly." Tseng instructed. "From the beginning."

"Found a signal yesterday," Reno rasped. "Or Rude did. Some shortwave radio in the middle of nowhere. They didn't remember to tune it down at night. Radio waves carry further at night, y'know?"

Sephiroth did know. He managed to remind himself that he knew what rhetorical questions were before he answered needlessly.

"They were talking about a captive, and some video they were planning. Propaganda bullshit, yo. Partner and I figured we'd check it out," The Turk's hands started to shake as he spoke, and he shoved them into his pockets. "No harm in trying. We hadn't found him anywhere else, and it was the closest lead we'd had. Glad we brought the medical equipment…"

"He was there." Sephiroth filled in.

"Oh yeah." Reno choked. "With twenty five Wutaian resistance fighters. Only about three of them were actually even Wutaian. The rest were just these dumbass Midgar revolutionaries, those absolute fucking—"

His rage built with every word, until Tseng reached out. A gentle touch of his hand to Reno's sleeve sent the younger of the suited men into silence. Sephiroth watched in dim recognition as the redhead put mental walls in place. They slid down like a store shuttering, his open fury morphing smoothly into a calm, smirking confidence. Cloud twitched at Sephiroth's side, but he didn't object to the wry, ugly smile twitching Reno's thin lips. Sephiroth wondered if he recognized the effect from being with him for so long.

"We didn't stick around to ask them what they wanted." Reno's voice had turned into a slow, calm drawl as soon as he'd put up the walls. There was something that Sephiroth found far more unsettling about hearing him speak calmly over this, but he wanted information more than comfort. "Killed 'em all. Most of 'em quickly. Damn shame, that."

"And Zack?" Cloud prompted.

"Caged." Reno replied. "Awake. Starved, beaten, and trussed up tight enough I doubt even our Sephiroth could have gotten free. I'll spare you the details. You'll find them out soon enough."

"He was awake?" Sephiroth asked softly. "Did he say anything?"

"Once I got him loose and cut the gag off him?" Reno asked, his eyes slanting up to Sephiroth. "Tell you the truth, I couldn't make out many words. He was screamin' plenty, though."

"Oh gods." Cloud whispered, sounding sick.

Sephiroth held him a little closer. Reno's eyes flickered, and his cold expression faltered. Sephiroth knew the feeling—wanting to put aside the mask and be genuine, and knowing that to do so would be to lose control. The urge seemed to vanish when heavy footsteps joined them.

Rude walked into the room, a towel working between his steady fingers. Reno gravitated to him like elements binding, but did not fall against him or lean into his arms. He just went to his side and stayed there as Rude worked cracked brown blood off of his fingers.

"We should sit." Sephiroth said after a moment, his voice low. He didn't know why he bothered involving Tseng in the gesture, but his eyes flicked to the man as well as Cloud when he spoke.

The Turk shook his head, even as Rude did.

"Full debriefing." He explained shortly. "General, I know I don't have to tell you. He should not be alone."

"He won't be." Sephiroth swore, his voice so vehement that Cloud gave a little startle at his side.

Tseng nodded. "We will do our best to ensure you are prepared."

Sephiroth tipped his head to acknowledge the words, moving towards the seating area to settle and wait.

"Look." Reno blurted, taking a half step forward. Cloud paused before Sephiroth and turned back to the obviously distraught Turk. "If he needs anything, you call us in. And screw the rivalry."

"You got it. Thanks for bringing him home." Cloud replied quietly. "We owe you."

They were left alone once the Turks departed. Sephiroth sank stiffly into a seat, fighting to keep his tense muscles relaxed enough not to harm either Cloud or the waiting room. At his side, the Third-Class managed to sit still all of three minutes before he was antsy and fidgeting.

"You're alright." Sephiroth murmured, keeping his voice quiet enough that not a single nurse so much as glanced over.

"Nothing's alright." Cloud countered softly. "It's never been him hurt before, Seph. He keeps an eye on us, and he's helped me so many times, but he's never been the one who needed backup."

"He has needed us before." Sephiroth argued with a quiet shake of his head. "And you have always been there for him."

"You have too." Cloud muttered, shoving Sephiroth with his shoulder. Sephiroth wanted to argue, but he could not bring himself to disappoint the young man with reminders of the strained stiffness between himself and Zack following Angeal's death.

"We may not be the perfect people to help him," Sephiroth admitted after a long moment, "But we are his friends. He chose us to be so. Surely that means he knows we can be relied on."

"I've never had to before, you know?" Cloud whispered. "I've never been the person anyone turned to for backup."

"I know a certain mouse and a certain General who would disagree." Sephiroth murmured, his voice low and his eyes averted.

"It's different with you." Cloud whispered, his hands twining together in his lap anxiously. "You would still be fine without me. Just less happy. Zack might really be in trouble."

Sephiroth didn't push the point, even as he shook his head silently at the sentiment. He would not have been fine without Cloud. Not even close. But now was not the time to discuss his pain.

"I will support you and him both as best I can." He swore instead. "I will be there to help you when it is overwhelming, and to keep him company when you need time."

"It might not be that bad, right?" Cloud whispered. "I mean, he's Zack. Nothing gets him down too long."

"That's true." Sephiroth whispered. He didn't say that he thought it would be different this time. They'd spent the last two and a half weeks hoping for the best. They could spend a little longer hoping before reality caught up to them.

Fifteen minutes of silence passed, then Cloud pushed away from him all at once, rising to his feet and starting to pace.

"What if he's not okay?" He asked softly.

"He has friends to help him." Sephiroth replied quietly. "That Second he likes, Kunsel, should be back from his mission within a few days. And he has the flower girl as well."

"Aerith." Cloud corrected, more sharply than usual.

"Aerith." Sephiroth parroted, trying to stay calm and not get riled by the tension roiling through Cloud. "She was there for him when he lost Angeal. I am certain she will be with him now as well."

"What if we aren't enough?" Cloud snapped. "What if he's not him anymore?"

"I don't know what you want me to tell you." Sephiroth said bleakly. "I hope that he will be himself, or that he will come back to himself quickly. But I know no more than you do."

"No, I guess you wouldn't." Cloud snapped coldly. "You hardly know how to handle people when they AREN'T close to breaking."

Sephiroth went still and silent. He lowered his eyes slowly, letting out a quiet breath and tipping his head forward. The sound of pacing stopped abruptly, and Cloud approached him in two swift steps.

"I didn't mean that." He whispered, one hand lifting to touch Sephiroth's shoulder gently.

"I know." Sephiroth heard his voice come out too flat, and tried to fix it. He couldn't seem to get any inflection into his words. "You are anxious. I am as well. And you are not incorrect."

"I am." Cloud whispered. "I am. You're great with him, Seph. You work so hard, and you really are."

Sephiroth did not reply, but he did let Cloud draw him forward into an awkward hug. The blond smelled like dried sweat from his earlier workout, but Sephiroth didn't mind. It was grounding, in a way.

"Sorry." Cloud's voice was quiet in his hair.

"It's fine." Sephiroth shook his head quietly, pulling slowly away from the touch. "It has been a stressful couple of weeks."

Internally, he'd feared the same. He could offer Cloud all the support in the world, but that did not mean he would be right in that support. It did not mean his words or his gestures or his knowledge would be of any use. He knew, by the books, every number of things that could happen to Zack in the aftermath of what he'd gone through. He knew the names and practices of a thousand ways to help. Whether he could ever put them into practice was another matter entirely.

Slowly, Cloud forced himself to sit at Sephiroth's side again, but his leg was jumping now with anxiety he could not force back, and Sephiroth no longer found himself able to offer Cloud comfort. It took him a long time to breathe through the well of panic inside himself to place a hand in the center of Cloud's back. He rubbed the tense muscles there in quiet support.

"The most important thing," he whispered after a moment, "is to be united for him."

"Right." Cloud whispered. "I won't snap. I promise."

"And I will do my best to be," Sephiroth searched for the right word a moment. "Emotionally available."

A nurse stopped by with coffees for them not long later. He gave them a quiet, worried smile, but no new information. Cloud accepted his coffee without word, and Sephiroth followed suit.

It was another hour before the doctor exited. She was sweaty, her hair sticking wildly out of her tight bun from where she'd worn a cap moments before. Sephiroth could still see the line of red skin around her forehead left by its pressure.

"I'm guessing you're here for Fair." She said, glancing between the two of them.

"Is he alright?" Cloud stood eagerly form under Sephiroth's arm.

Sephiroth stayed seated. The doctor looked exhausted, and he had a bad habit of intimidating people by moving too quickly or standing too close. Sometimes even by breathing too loud. He kept himself carefully at a mental distance, observing the way she seemed to soften when faced with Cloud's worry.

"He's stable." She said in reply. "And resting comfortably for now. Though knowing you Soldier types that could change at any moment."

"If he wakes disoriented, you may want to have us back there." Sephiroth cautioned after a moment, his voice low and steady. "Even weakened, he is still a First."

"You have basically summarized what I came out here for, sir." She said briskly. "He's not ready to go anywhere, but having eyes on him from someone who stands a chance in hell of restraining him if he's not entirely himself—"

"Understood." Sephiroth said quietly, fighting back his disappointment that his friend was not exactly going to be welcomed home with a hug at once.

"May we see him then?" Cloud asked, a mixture of fear and eagerness in his voice, the emotions tumbling together in a way that made Sephiroth's voice seem all the more flat and empty in comparison.

They were lead to a room where the doctor had them scrub their hands and faces. Sephiroth put up his hair, and forced back the pieces of him that shied away from medical equipment and the smell of sterility. Another wall slid shut between his emotions and his behavior, and he hoped that allowing it to fall closed would not be damaging for Cloud. The blond didn't even seem to notice, and Sephiroth was glad for it. The last thing he wanted was to take Cloud's attention and worry for himself. It should all be focused on their friend.

He never would have made it into the room with Zack without that wall in place. He needed the mental distance just to cross the threshold. The smell of alcoholic sterility so strong that it filled his nose and mouth both. The steady beeps and whirs of the bedside machines measuring his vitals. Sephiroth let Cloud approach to the bedside first, hanging back to study the readouts.

Steady brain function, in proper wave format. He was asleep still, and did not appear currently distressed. His pulse was too fast. Sephiroth knew Zack well, from his cheesy grin to his distinctive scent to his resting pulse of roughly 72 beats per minute. The thready heartbeat hammering at a resting 98 was a grim indication of what they would find.

He allowed his eyes to slide down onto Zack's face, but found them skirting over the reality of him to follow the line of the oxygen mask over his face, checking for twists in the cord that would leave discomfort on his cheeks. He glanced to the pulse monitor over his finger, and the IV line in the elbow of his other arm. There was a bandage over his hand, and another on his wrist from failed IV attempts. It spoke of probable dehydration. He started to move over to check what IV drip he was on when Cloud made a quiet sound of distress that stilled him.

"Oh Zack." The other man whispered, his voice choked with tears. "What did they do to you?"

Sephiroth could not distance himself from that. Not from the raw pain in Cloud's voice. He looked over to watch the man he cared for so deeply for a moment, then forced himself to look at his best friend's face.

Zack looked worse than some corpses he had seen. It was the first thought that entered his head, and it was almost a violent enough mental image to send him into a screaming collapse of his own. He forced his eyes to the monitors again, watching the heartbeat, listening to the rasp of Zack's breath under the oxygen mask, glancing to the brainwaves.

Not a corpse, he reminded himself firmly. And he was not going to be one.

He took a step forward. He felt a flash of gratitude when he saw that Zack's chapped, bloody lips had been tended, something like vaseline glistening on their surface to help them heal and keep them from splitting worse. What he'd hoped was filthiness were mottled bruises, marking Zack's face heavily on one side, leaving his cheek and temple and jaw dark purple and swollen, dissipating into yellow-green bruises over his left eye. His right was blackened of its own accord.

The injuries were bad. The tightness of his skin, and the unhealthy pallor of his usually tan and smiling face were worse. His cheeks were hollow, his brows seeming deeper with his sunken eyes. Sephiroth could pick up the faint glow of mako under his skin still, and his irises shone under his eyelids every now and then in a flicker of the stuff.

"Seph," Cloud whispered, as though seeking reassurance. "Seph, he's glowing."

"It happens." Sephiroth murmured gently. "You've seen it happen to me. When I overdosed on Mako. He's been starved. His body's been burning it for fuel. It is already starting to fade with the intravenous fluids."

"You're closing off on me." Cloud whispered.

"We are in a medical suite, and I am doing my best." Sephiroth kept his voice level, and forced his words to be truthful instead of denying the reality of Cloud's assessment. The other man did not complain again.

"Zack." Cloud whispered instead after a moment, perching gently on the chair beside the bed. "We're here for you, buddy."

Sephiroth watched Zack's chest rise and fall. He knew enough about personal privacy not to pull down the blankets and check on the rest of him. But with only his face telling such a story, he desperately wanted to know what the rest of Zack had been through. But thank the gods, this was not an autopsy, and he would not do as he pleased. Not without Zack's permission. Even if he never gave it.

"He looks bad." Cloud sounded distant.

"Yes." Sephiroth agreed. "But his vital readings are stable."

"Reno said—"

"Reno was highly emotional." Sephiroth said briskly, interrupting the thought before it could be fully formed.

"That makes it worse." Cloud glared at Sephiroth in retaliation. "He's a Turk. They aren't supposed to get emotional."

Sephiroth felt his emotions walling off, and tried to find the balance between distant enough to function and affectionate enough not to wound. "He is here now."

"What are we supposed to do?" Cloud whispered.

"We wait." Sephiroth replied with a bleak honesty that he knew was wrong. He shook his head instantly afterwards. "I'm sorry, that came out badly."

Cloud cast him a brief glance, his blue eyes brimming with tears, but not as angry as Sephiroth had feared.

"I know." He whispered. "Just… Do you think the nurses will tell us what all is wrong with him?"

"It is against procedure." Sephiroth said blandly. "As are we, technically."

"So how are we supposed to help? Cloud whispered.

"If we are lucky, he will tell us what he needs." Sephiroth felt his voice dimming, and tried to make it firmer. Was he making the right expression for this conversation? He was fairly certain he wasn't. He was probably empty-faced again. He hoped Cloud would forgive him that.

The room fell silent, and Sephiroth went back to studying the monitors. He knew what they would say, but it was better. It was better than looking at Cloud, and at the intravenous line that he knew would be aching when Zack awakened, and at the frail-looking man who he had only ever known to be hearty and vibrant.

"Oh gods." Cloud whispered into the silence. "His fingers…"

"How bad?" Sephiroth asked blankly, not daring to look.

"Not broken, I don't think." Cloud whispered. "But he doesn't… He doesn't have any fingernails, and…"

Sephiroth forced himself to take a breath, then slowly turned, walking to Cloud's side. He looked down at Zack's pale, blood-stained hand. At the raw skin of his fingertips. He placed a hand slowly on Cloud's back in silent support. He could offer no more than that. He choked back the scream of anger burning in his throat, and said nothing.

Cloud reached out after a long while, stronger than Sephiroth was in so many ways. His palm rested slowly over Zack's hand, the contact distanced by the gloves Cloud wore to protect their friend from infection.

"We're here, buddy." He rasped after a moment, in a voice that was as raw as Sephiroth's heart felt. "You're safe."

Sephiroth made it an hour before he the itch in his back became too much to bear. He glanced to Cloud's strained eyes, and felt the request to escape die on his tongue. He swallowed hard, bit back on the rising discomfort, and shifted on his feet, still rubbing small, obsessive circles into Cloud's spine.

It was hours before Zack twitched. The sign of life drew a slow sigh from Cloud, and even Sephiroth closed his eyes in relief. Then Zack sucked in a sharp breath under the oxygen mask, and his eyes flickered, still closed for the most part, but mako shining in panic.

"Enough." He rasped in a voice that was not their friend's—so far from the lively first's voice that Sephiroth thought for a moment that it was someone else—that they had been mistaken all this time.

"Zack," Cloud objected swiftly, eyes widening in horror from where they'd softened in relief. "Zack, you're home."

"He's not awake, Cloud." Sephiroth felt how flat his voice was, and every word he spoke with a sickness twisting in his chest.

"Please." Zack sobbed, twisting in the hospital bed. The whites of his eyes shone through fluttering eyelids, his gaze rolling and unaware. "No more."

The heart monitor was racing. Sephiroth pressed a finger to the nurse call button, and drew Cloud away from their panicked, dreaming friend. Cloud struggled in his hold, as involved in Zack's pain as Sephiroth was distant. Sephiroth held him steady until the doctor had appeared, sliding a new needle into the already-hooked IV port. Zack wasn't even strong enough for her to need Sephiroth's help with it.

The First gasped a few more times, breathing like a landed fish. Then he slumped back to the bed, his heart rate finally starting to even out once more. Sephiroth released Cloud with numb hands.

"Twilight sedation?" He asked the doctor, his voice sounding as empty as the VR room computers.

"Just until i'm sure he won't tear himself up when he moves." The woman carefully placed the needle's cap back on, then dropped it into the biohazard containment unit. "It's safe, I promise."

"I know." Sephiroth replied.

"It's bad, isn't it." Cloud whispered, interrupting the calm reality of their conversation with a burst of raw emotion that left Sephiroth feeling weak in the knees somehow. "He's really hurt badly."

"He'll heal fast." The doctor replied after a moment. "Too fast, for all intents and purposes, I think."

"What do you mean?" Cloud demanded.

"She means that Soldiers heal too quickly." Sephiroth sighed, closing his eyes lightly to block out at least one of the too-many stimuli around him. "Our bodies heal before our brains can comprehend the injury fully."

"It's still being researched." the woman sighed. "But Soldiers are more likely to experience psychological breakdowns after injury or physical stress than any trooper."

"He's stronger than anyone." Cloud objected. "I've never seen anything get him down."

"I hope you're right." The woman said softly.

It wasn't until she left again, her head bowed and exhaustion in every line of her that Sephiroth spoke up.

"Cloud." He said softly, trying his best to make his voice gentle. "Don't hold on to that too much."

"It's true." Cloud whispered, shaking his head quietly. His eyes gleamed with tears.

"It is true he does not show his pain readily." Sephiroth agreed after a moment. "That does not mean he is unharmed. After all you would once have said the same thing about me, would you not have?"

"It's different." Cloud whispered, and there was a note like pleading in his voice.

"Not so different as I would like." Sephiroth whispered. "He did not show his pain after Angeal's death either. But it was still there."

"Seph—"

"But it will be different this time." Sephiroth whispered, feeling his voice grow startlingly sharper and clearer. "I will not close my eyes to his pain. Not again."

Cloud met his eyes, and the strain between them, for a moment, was choking. Then Cloud gave a slow nod.

"I know you won't." He admitted. "I know we'll help him."

The words rang hollow over the rush of oxygen and the beating of a wounded man's heart. In the silence that followed, the memory of Zack's words was impossible to block out.

'_Please.' _Sephiroth's brain repeated, turning the words over and over obsessively in his mind. '_Enough.'_

'_No more. No more. No more.'_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Sephiroth was not there the next time Zack woke up.

It was a simple idea, to stay by a bedside. It was harder in reality. He had an army to lead. He made it down to medical as often as he could, despite the stress headache it gave him. Zack had started to look more like himself after the first fifteen hours of fluids, but the slightly-less-ghostly pallor was far from the miracle that part of Sephiroth had been hoping for since he first laid eyes on his friend.

Cloud took the brunt of the strain, and Sephiroth knew it. While he had to attend to his duties, Cloud stayed by Zack's side—wiped the senseless, unconscious tears off his face, and the drool from the corner of his lips while he slept on and on endlessly. Sephiroth's appearances, when he could manage them, led to Cloud vanishing. It had become an unspoken rule within moments of Sephiroth's first arrival after a spell of work.

Cloud needed rest and privacy and time to eat and drink. So they did their best to spread out the exhaustion. Sephiroth worked during the day, taking over for Cloud during his brief lunch break. It was long enough for the man he loved to relieve himself without fear of leaving Zack alone. Then he'd go back to the lonely routine of meetings and paperwork and training.

When he was done at last he no longer went home to his apartment to a blond Soldier smiling and waiting for him. Instead he walked back to the near-silent medical wing. Cloud was always still waiting for him, of course, but it was with a strained, tired look. Usually they exchanged at least a brief touch, but they did not kiss or cling to one another. Neither of them seemed to have the energy for such affection.

The medical staff kept Zack at a low-level sedation for a long time. Infections had to be pinned down before his recovery could fully start, and the Soldier's mental damage would further wound his body, they said. Sephiroth wasn't sure he believed them, but he patiently sat by the bedside of his best friend through the long nights, and only dozed off now and then. He stole the same kind of sleep he had during the war—short, stiff bouts of rest that would be enough to keep him going, but not for long.

Zack's room was filling up with flowers and get-well gifts. Sephiroth watched the nurses bring them, and did not bother checking the names. He only inspected each one for signs of danger or poison or bombs, then placed them aside. He made sure to put them all somewhere Zack would see them when he woke. Flowers meant little to Sephiroth, but he knew they would mean something to his friend.

He and Cloud barely spoke. After months of living and breathing each other, it felt to Sephiroth like a particularly cruel sensory deprivation—as though everything that brought him joy had been stripped away. He'd been so used to allowing himself to live that vibrant sort of life. Going back to the grim routine of waiting, alone and sleepless, was painful. But he did not complain, and he never would. One look at Zack's pale face, or the small beginnings of new fingernails growing from ruined flesh was enough to kill any self-pity Sephiroth might have felt.

The nurses had maintained Zack's medical privacy well, but Sephiroth had caught glimpses here and there. He and Cloud had started swapping a notebook on the second day, leaving each other little notes about his condition. A mention of the harsh scar Cloud had seen on Zack's ankle when he shifted out from under the blankets in his sleep. A note on the mottled bruises coiling over his collar bone that Sephiroth had noticed two nights ago. The nurse's hiss of sympathy from behind the closed door when Sephiroth had to wait outside for her to bathe his friend.

It was not pleasant reading, but it felt necessary. They knew so little. It was Zack's story to tell or to keep secret, but Sephiroth felt he had to know something of what to expect. Cloud, it appeared, felt the same.

By the third day, it had become routine. Sephiroth signed paperwork on autopilot, his mind filled with the books he'd been reading about helping someone recover from torture, about what a starvation victim ought to eat, about how to respond appropriately when a horrific detail was revealed. He memorized all of it, but could not see himself following the advice. He would try, but he had never been skilled at emotional things. He'd left them for Cloud to read, and had noticed the blond's distinctive multi-colored bookmarks appearing throughout them as he located important passages.

He was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for the screaming and flames and fire that always followed the silence in war. He was prepared to watch his world fall apart, and prepared to hold on through it in a desperate attempt to keep the people he cared for alive.

And yet, despite his knowing that the fall was coming, when his phone buzzed on the fourth day since Zack came home it felt like the world lurched under him. He wasn't ready for the text message that lit up his phone—wasn't ready to see Cloud messaging him. Anxiety tightened his chest as he waited for the message to load, his fingers tight enough on the phone that he had to force himself to back off before he shattered the re-enforced machine.

"Hes up&amp; talking!" the message proclaimed.

Despite the emotional impact of the words, Sephiroth's mind stuck on the shorthand and punctuation errors, his left eye twitching in distaste. Then his grip on the phone went suddenly lax, and it fell from his fingers to the desk. He stared at the wall opposite him.

Zack was awake. Cloud hadn't called him in hysterics, but had instead sent a text. That ended with an exclamation mark. That usually indicated excitement, in Sephiroth's experience. Excitement meant… Maybe that miracle he'd been hoping for wasn't so far-fetched after all.

He glanced at the stack of paperwork, then at his scheduled meeting. Then he forced his hands to function again, picking up his fallen phone and sending a text to Heidegger's number.

'Soldier business. Meeting postponed.'

He locked the office door behind him with a quick scan of his thumbprint, then nodded to the secretary who doubled as a gatekeeper to his office sanctum. She didn't question why he was sweeping out of his office halfway through the work day. That was part of why she'd kept her job so long.

He couldn't decide what he ought to feel as he walked swiftly down to medical. He kept his hardest mask in place as he stormed past the denizens of Shinra. He would entertain no distractions. He was trying to chose between excitement and fear and guilt—Guilt not just from allowing this to happen to Zack, but from not feeling the way he ought to automatically. It had never come easy to him. He wished now more than ever that his mind was more together—more human.

The woman at the front desk of medical looked up at him with a smile when he walked through the door. Every day before, she'd given him a pitying look. He catalogued the crinkled skin at the corner of her eyes, and the eagerness in the tilt of her lips. He strode past her without waiting to exchange words, moving quickly towards the back, doing his best not to stalk. It did not feel like the sort of place one should stalk.

He heard Zack before he saw him.

"Who brought the roses?"

He stopped in the hallway, rocking forward on the balls of his feet, but not moving. He tilted his head, sifting through the sound of Zack's voice. Dry, yes. Rasping and weak. Muffled as though he were talking from under the oxygen mask. But none of the strain Sephiroth had expected to hear. None of the raw desperation that there had been in his desperate pleas.

'_Enough enough enough'_

"Um, the card says Reno." Cloud's voice was a warm reply, filled with affection and relief. "But it looks like someone else's name used to be on it. I think he's just taking credit for all the ones he thought were good."

"Aw, he cares." Zack replied, tapering off into a laugh that devolved too quickly into coughs and wheezes that still managed to sound amused.

"Zack, you promised you wouldn't laugh too much." Cloud's voice complained with honest worry behind the teasing.

"Can't help it." Another rough cough that could have been a chuckle. "It's too damn funny."

Sephiroth forced himself forward, moving stiffly to the doorway, until he could see Zack's face—The wry grin under the oxygen mask, the eyes still hazed with sleep, teary from coughing. The color high in his cheeks from the breathless wheezes of laughter.

"I'm not telling you any more until you start breathing properly again." Cloud declared, stepping into Sephiroth's view and sitting lightly on Zack's bedside, his arms crossed firmly.

"Define 'normal,' Spikey." Zack insisted breathlessly, even as he sank back into the bed, eyes gazing up at the ceiling, a rakish grin still fixed on his lips. "Go on. I'd love to hear _you_ try."

"I'll just wait until you're not as red as if you'd been boiled, then." Cloud responded rather sharply, and a part of Sephiroth flinched. His mind panicked, scrambled, because what if that set Zack on a flashback, what if it was the wrong thing to say, what if—

Laughter again, or as close as the Soldier could come. His eyes crinkled, and he wheezed amiably. Cloud's hand fluttered down from where he'd previously crossed it, resting over Zack's chest as though urging the rattling there to vanish.

Sephiroth felt frozen. It wasn't what he'd prepared for. It wasn't the wide eyes and shaking hands that plagued Cloud after trauma, or the violent ferocity of Genesis's pain. It wasn't the blatant refusal to acknowledge his injury that Angeal would have stubbornly displayed. It wasn't even his own stony silence. Zack grinned and played with Cloud as though this were a minor setback. As though he would be swinging out off bed and doing squats if his legs would hold him. He probably would be.

He didn't know how to fit into this easy repartee that Zack and Cloud seemed to have developed already. He didn't know how to smile at the wan, weak version of Zack Fair. He didn't know how to give the gentle comfort of Cloud's hand while still letting that teasing air live between him and his friend. He shifted, wanting to go to Zack, and not wanting to make it worse. He took things too seriously for the First's taste, he knew. Would this fall into that category as well? Was he meant to make light of it? Was he supposed to join the playful atmosphere?

Then Zack's weary eyes flickered to him, and Sephiroth found that he couldn't resist the way his friend's face brightened at the sight of him. He stepped into the room, ducking his head as though to avoid something. He only held eye contact for a moment before glancing to the monitors, clearing his throat as he waited to be given his lead-in cue.

"Well, doc?" Zack's voice was as colored with pain as it was with laughter. "Will I play the violin again?"

"Did you play the violin before?" Sephiroth asked, keeping his voice low, gauging the reaction carefully, watching the heartbeats spiking on the screen for any change.

"Not even close." Zack's chuckle sounded ragged.

"Then I highly doubt this has improved your aptitude." Sephiroth hazarded after a moment, turning to face Zack properly.

The sunny, approving grin that he received was somewhat dampened by the split that opened in Zack's lip from smiling too much. A bead of blood welled from the cracked skin.

"Pity." Zack commented, even as he accepted the tissue Cloud offered with a hand that was only shaking a little, lifting the oxygen mask off his face to dab at the bloody mark.

"Welcome home." Sephiroth offered quietly instead of playing any further into the game.

Zack paused, swallowed, then smiled a smaller, softer smile, his eyes closing lightly and a low hum catching in his throat.

"Good to be back."

"You sound like you're going to sandpaper your throat to death." Cloud scolded fondly, pressing a cup into Zack's hand when he took the bloodied tissue back. "Chew on some ice and give Sephiroth a minute to fret over you."

"Seph doesn't fret for anyone but you." Zack teased roughly, even as he wiggled stiffly back on the bed to prop himself up on the pillows, tipping some of the ice shavings into his mouth and crunching on them, the oxygen mask around his neck still rushing softly.

"You didn't see him the past few days." Cloud replied, looking more alive than he had since Zack arrived pale and bruised. The dark circles under his eyes were hard to notice in the light of the smile on his face, and the relief that colored his entire being. "Fretting over you like a doting ghost."

Sephiroth grunted in disapproval at Cloud's teasing, but he only halfway meant it. He sank slowly into the chair at Zack's side, and received a doleful look from his friend.

"You're not gonna sit on the bed with us?" Zack asked around a mouthful of ice.

"It's hardly built to have two Soldiers sitting on it as it is." Sephiroth groused. "I don't want to flip you out of bed. At least not until we've got that IV unhooked."

"Suddenly, I am less disappointed in your choice of seat." Zack chuckled, bleary eyes tightening in a smile.

Sephiroth watched him steadily a moment, unsurprised when Zack turned from his scrutiny to pass Cloud back the cup and snuggle back into his oxygen mask as though it were a comfort blanket. He knew how good it could be to feel the cleansing breaths of air in an exhausted body.

"You're feeling…" Sephiroth cast about for a word. 'Alright' seemed too flippant, 'okay' too obviously incorrect. Cloud lifted an eyebrow at him from across Zack's bed, and Sephiroth jumped ahead with the next word that came to mind at the expectant look. "Adequate?"

Zack snorted, choked on a giggle, and waved a hand at Cloud and Sephiroth both when they gave a concerned jolt forward.

"Adequate." He muttered to himself, reaching out with a weak hand to pat Sephiroth on the arm. "Sure, buddy. I mean, breathing, check. Heartbeat, machine says yes. Pretty sure I'm stringing words together pretty well, I think Cloudy would have told me if I was fucking that up."

"Words seem to be working, yeah." Cloud agreed, his warm smile settling the anxiety that had risen in Sephiroth at his misstep.

"Wanna see if holding my breath will set off the nurse call alert?" Zack asked somewhat too eagerly, already out of breath just from conversing.

"Rain check." Cloud replied, shaking his head. His hand had come to rest on Zack's wrist, naturally, warmly. Sephiroth kept himself removed, too concerned about touching the wrong place, or hitting the wrong nerve. He could not touch Zack. Not and risk harming him.

"That means soon, right?" Zack's look was pure mischief, but it vanished under a wince when he shifted uneasily under the white blanket.

"Are you hurting?" Sephiroth asked quietly, concerned.

"Just sore." Zack shot him a glance that was surprisingly quelling. "And a little tired. Pretty dumb, though, being tired after sleeping… How many days was I out again, Spike?"

"Three since you've been here." Cloud replied with an ease that wasn't matched in his body posture. Sephiroth watched him tense, then force himself loose, and wondered if perhaps Cloud was putting on as much of a mask as he was for Zack's sake.

"I got that many flowers in three days?" Zack chuckled, delight crinkling his eyes, though he managed to keep from laughing loudly enough to set off another coughing fit. "Usually takes a while to even get them into the—"

He broke off abruptly, his eyes fixating on something across the room. Sephiroth followed his gaze to the pile of flowers and gifts, searching for what might have caught his eye.

"Seph." His voice had gotten abruptly weaker, and Sephiroth jerked his eyes back to him in fear. The look on his face had changed utterly, quiet shock seeming to set in where cheer had been before. "Would you bring those lilies over? The ones in the basket."

"They came in this morning." Cloud clarified, even as Sephiroth rose immediately to follow the request. "Tseng brought them by."

"Yeah." Zack muttered. "He would."

Sephiroth's fingers twitched when he touched the handle of the basket. There was something about the smell of the flowers that touched a nerve deep in the back of his mind. He didn't let himself hesitate, despite the unease. They were obviously safe. If Tseng had brought them in they would have been thoroughly vetted.

He watched in surprise when Zack retrieved the basket from his hand with both his too-thin arms, curling them around the wicker as though cradling something precious. Inside, the lilies shifted, soft and delicate, and miraculously unwilted for not having been put into a vase.

"She shouldn't have." Zack whispered, his voice rough with emotion that had been absent before.

Sephiroth watched the play of shadow and longing over Zack's face as he slowly sank back into his seat. He looked to Cloud for help and clarification and received the smallest of smiles and a quiet shake of the head from the blond.

"I'm sure she was as worried about you as the rest of us." Cloud said gently, placing a careful hand on Zack's shoulder as the First bent forward, pressing his cheek lightly against the handle of the basket.

Ah, Sephiroth thought. The flower girl. That explained how the lilies had lasted. If what Zack said was true, she actually had a patch of them growing beneath the plate. That would have made a short enough trip for them to survive it. He exhaled quietly through his nose, trying to ignore the way the scent of them set his teeth on edge.

"You guys told her?" Zack asked, lifting pained eyes to Cloud, a strangely betrayed look on his face.

"Not details." Cloud corrected quickly, lifting his hands. "When you were missing, and when you were found. Mentioned that you were hurt, but I'm sure Tseng didn't tell her anything too personal. Same as with your folks."

Zack's mouth twisted for a moment, then he settled again, the flowers in his lap, and one of his too-weak hands sliding into the basket to rest on the delicate stems of the blossoms. He gave a shiver and settled back on the hospital bed.

Sephiroth drew in a breath to speak, but their alone time with Zack was over. There was a knock on the door that heralded a smiling woman with a clipboard held over her chest.

"Commander Fair?" She asked sweetly, looking ever so slightly star-struck. "The doctor wanted me to go over some treatment options with you. Would you prefer to talk in private?"

"Pretty lady like you?" Zack grinned behind the oxygen mask. "You'd better believe it."

"Zack—" Sephiroth wanted to tell him that it was alright, that they would be there for him no matter what. But the sharp look Zack cut him before his grin reappeared silenced the words.

"Shoo," Zack's laugh was a wheeze, and if it hadn't been for the glare that came before it, Sephiroth would have bought it hook line and sinker. "You're cramping my style!"

"We'll see you soon, then." Cloud dropped a hand lightly on Zack's forearm, patting him twice. "Glad you're up, you knuckle head."

Sephiroth followed Cloud out of the room without trying to play into the game. He considered standing outside the closed door and eavesdropping, but Cloud drew him away and he didn't fight.

"He's bad." Cloud said softly once they were safely standing by the coffee machine in the waiting room.

Sephiroth took one look at the harrowed expression on Cloud's face, and poured him a cup of coffee. He sweetened it with two packets of sugar, stirring in three of the little packets of cream. Cloud gifted him with a tired smile as he accepted the coffee with both hands.

"You think it's an act, then." Sephiroth's own voice was strangely rough, and he cleared his throat after the words.

Cloud gave a weary chuckle that was far from pleasant.

"I thought at first he was for real." He took a slow sip of coffee and let out a heavy sigh. "But I was just happy to see him awake. He's… Well. He's being Zack about it."

"Good to know he's not too far gone." Sephiroth offered after a moment. "As difficult as this may make it to get through to him."

"I just don't want to let him know that it's that see through, you know?" Cloud's bright blue gaze lifted to Sephiroth.

Tears were welling in his bloodshot eyes, and Sephiroth's hand twitched at his side, wanting to reach out. He didn't know where to touch, or what to say, so he forced his hand still, and waited to hear more.

"I know it's for protection." Cloud's chin tucked again, and he edged a little closer to Sephiroth. "It makes him feel safe to hide behind that smile, and I don't want to take that safety away."

"You are a good friend." Sephiroth whispered, lifting has hand slowly and clasping it lightly on Cloud's bicep. "And I think you are right to let him hide, at least for now. If what I think is of importance."

"It is." Cloud muttered, sliding closer just to knock against Sephiroth with his shoulder.

Sephiroth let a breath escape him at the touch, and tucked his chin. He didn't quite curl around Cloud like he wanted to, but he stayed still, standing before him and letting Cloud press as close as he liked.

For a moment, he was reminded of a mission they'd been sent on together. It had been raining, the wind blowing so hard that the rain had been nearly horizontal. He'd stood against it calmly, letting Cloud hide from the rain in his wake for a little while, the infantryman chuckling about Sephiroth granting him shelter from the storm.

Sephiroth could only hope that Cloud felt sheltered from this storm as well, even if only for a while.

For a moment, it was still. The smell of coffee was strong enough that Sephiroth it nearly covered the scent of sickness and sterility. Cloud needed a shower, but Sephiroth was grateful for it, in a way. It gave him one more layer of scent to hide from the too-familiar medical smells. He wondered if it was really Cloud he was sheltering, or if it was the other way around. He wondered if it mattered.

"What if he doesn't let us help?" Cloud asked into the silence a long while later.

Sephiroth lifted his eyes from the mop of blond hair close to his chest, gazing at the wall across from them for a moment. He made a low sound, acknowledging Cloud's question without replying yet, the fingers of his free hand twitching with impotence.

"Then we must respect his wishes." Sephiroth replied at last. "Though I hope that will not be the case."

Cloud pressed a little closer, silent for a moment before he took a slow breath.

"Sephiroth." His voice was low and intimate, a fragile note of concern carrying through it. "You're shaking."

Sephiroth made a conscious effort to still himself, but the finite tremble of his muscles continued. There was no removing the tension without dissociating, and he dared not do that yet.

"I do not have a good track record with helping my friends." He barely let the words escape him in a breath. If Cloud's enhancements hadn't started to take hold, the young man never would have heard him. As it was those luminous eyes lifted to gaze up at Sephiroth with shocked worry. Sephiroth jerked his head up to look away from the expression.

Cloud leaned more heavily against him, and the pressure was strangely comforting. Sephiroth took a slow breath and allowed himself that comfort, at least for a moment.

"It's not the same." Cloud whispered, pressing his cheek to Sephiroth's bared chest. "He's not going to leave, Sephiroth."

"I'm sorry." His voice came out strained, and he cleared his throat softly, feeling his brows lower with tension and restraining the expression. "I'm sorry." He repeated, his voice smoother. "I am alright, Cloud."

"You don't have to be." Cloud whispered. "I know you want to be for him, and for me, but it's okay for this to hurt you too. I'd be worried if it didn't affect you."

"I usually have better control than this." Sephiroth sighed. "Perhaps I should call in Tseng's offer to have a Turk stay with Zackary tonight. I'm…" He struggled to voice the admission, before finally finishing. "Tired."

"Me too." Cloud replied, his voice tense. "It's been a while since we had a good night's sleep, huh."

"About three weeks." Sephiroth agreed dryly.

"Want some of my coffee?" Cloud offered with a wry twist to his lips.

"I'd prefer an assassination attempt." Sephiroth sighed. "Those always wake me right up."

"You always say that." Cloud chuckled. "And I still haven't seen one assassination attempt to prove it."

"I need to find more daring political opponents." Sephiroth agreed with a huff.

Cloud's laughter was muffled in his coffee cup, but Sephiroth could feel him smiling, and the look the Soldier sent him was warm and affectionate. For a moment, Sephiroth allowed himself to think that everything would be okay.

Zack was asleep again by the time they were allowed back into the room. The basket of lilies was resting by his bedside, and Sephiroth gave a low hum of thought, looking at them.

"We should fetch them some water." He muttered after a moment. "They seem particularly important to him."

"I don't think I own any vases." Cloud replied with a helpless shrug. "We could switch them out with the roses. Those don't even have a proper name on them anymore."

Sephiroth glanced at the roses and gave a quiet scoff, his eyes focusing on the indentations under Reno's name, reading the dedication the Turk had removed neatly.

"They're from 'Janice.'" He reported. "I don't know who Janice is."

"Zack probably doesn't either." Cloud commented, fetching the flowers. "He'd probably like her if he met her again, though. He tends not to flirt or chat unless he means it. He just means it a lot more than most of us."

"Do you still owe him that date?" Sephiroth asked, glancing over at Cloud, just to watch him blush at the reminder.

"It wasn't a date." Cloud muttered. "But yes. I've been saving it for a special occasion, you know? Not like we haven't gone out to dinners together and stuff, but…"

Sephiroth phased out for a moment, then shook his head briskly, fighting back the rushing in his ears. His eyes were having some trouble focusing, and he caught a deeper breath, forcing them to sharpen, gazing intently at the drip of the IV bag.

"—iroth?" Cloud's voice filtered back into his awareness, and Sephiroth turned his disobedient eyes to his lover. Cloud's look of concern struck straight to the heart of him.

"Go home." Cloud murmured after a moment. "You've been pulling double duty too long."

"I don't want to leave." Sephiroth said bleakly. "He just woke up."

"And he'll wake up again." Cloud assured him in a quiet voice. "I'll call Reno or Cissnei in to keep an eye on him tonight. Then I'll come meet you, okay? You need to sleep."

"I've slept less." Sephiroth said with a shrug of his shoulder.

"Don't do that." Cloud whispered, crossing the last of the distance between them, setting the flowers down to take one of Sephiroth's hands in his fingers. "It's not about how much you can stand. I know you want to be here for him, but you have to take care of yourself too. You're already having issues with disassociation."

"You noticed." Sephiroth's voice came out flat and empty.

"I always try to notice when something's hurting you." Cloud squeezed his hand gently. "I know this is hard on you. And I know I haven't been helping."

"You don't need to look after me." Sephiroth glowered at the words and Cloud shot him a brief glare.

"Don't you get defensive at me." He scolded mildly. "There's nothing wrong with me wanting to help and protect you."

"I am not a child."

"You are exhausted, though." Cloud's free hand lifted to press against his chest. "Or you wouldn't be growling at me at all."

Sephiroth averted his eyes, then shook his head briskly. "You're not much better." He muttered. "And you have less mako to offset the exhaustion."

"I know." Cloud sighed after a moment. "And I promise I'll come join you and sleep. Just… Please, Seph. I'm worried. I have time off thanks to you, but you might have to go on a mission any day, and we're still not sure if Reno and Rude got all of the people who took him, or who they were working for, and if you get sent away and you don't come back—"

"No one is going to capture me." Sephiroth said softly.

"Zack would have said the same thing three weeks ago." Cloud's gaze was firm as he stared up at Sephiroth. "I know you're worried. But please. Do this for me. I want to know that you're safe."

Sephiroth looked to their sleeping friend. His hands were both palm up now, resting on top of the covers. There were shining scars on his wrists from how they'd bound him. The oxygen mask misted rhythmically with his breaths.

"Alright." He murmured at last. "Since you are the one who is asking."

"Thank you." Cloud sighed, carefully lifting the roses free of the vase.

Sephiroth moved on auto pilot, lifting the lilies and sliding them into the water. They made his hands tingle. He wondered if he was allergic to that type of flower. He'd never had the chance to find out before.

"Did you notice anything new for the notebook?" Cloud asked, drawing Sephiroth's attention from the itching in his palms. "While we're both here?"

"Jaundice." Sephiroth replied, idly wiping his palms off on the leather of his jacket. "I wasn't sure before because his skin coloration is already off. But the whites of his eyes are definitely yellow."

"That's a problem with his liver?" Cloud asked, looking anxious.

"Probably it is a function of the dehydration and starvation, and will fade quickly." Sephiroth muttered, shaking his head a little. "Just something to keep an eye on."

"Right." Cloud muttered.

"And you?" Sephiroth asked, taking a deep breath, fighting to keep himself awake. Now that he'd agreed to sleep, he found that his body craved it.

"I think he's angry." Cloud murmured after a moment. "I'm sorry I didn't notice anything physical, but under the laughing I kept catching these glares from him. I think he's not, um…" He trailed off, his eyes flickering downwards and darkening. "'Not happy' sounds like stating the obvious."

"If it helps, I do not think it is us he is angry with." Sephiroth murmured, even as his mind flicked through the too-brief conversation with their friend. "Displaced anger and bitterness are common problems in those recovering from such ill treatment."

"Thanks." Cloud sighed with a smile, settling the dripping roses in the basket and placing them gently aside with the other flowers. "That does help."

Sephiroth stared down at his face a moment before he let out a breath, bending slowly to catch Cloud in the softest of kisses.

"You'll come home tonight?" He asked, glad that Cloud's eyes stayed closed for a moment after their kiss, because as wistful as his voice came out, he must have been giving him a strange look.

"Cross my heart." Cloud murmured.

Sephiroth nodded slowly, turning his gaze to Zack. He didn't say anything to the unconscious man—he found the idea of speaking to someone who wasn't listening uncomfortable at best—but he watched him for a moment, observing the rise and fall of his chest. Then he gave a slow nod, stroked a hand over Cloud's shoulder briefly and walked out of the room.

He all but sleepwalked back to his apartment, and fell into bed without grace, struggling against his boots as though he were still a new Soldier fighting with the company's fashion sense. By the time he was undressed and under the covers, he could feel a headache pounding inside his skull, finally able to be recognized now that he was taking a moment free of all his masks.

Despite his exhaustion and stress and need, he couldn't sleep. He kept running through what he'd seen of Zack—what Reno had told them—what he knew of torture from his own experience.

He wished he knew less, and yet he wished he could know everything at the same time. Knowledge was a weapon, and he would have been much happier armed.

As it was, by the time Cloud came home Sephiroth was sitting at the table with a cup of tea, unable to rest and too frustrated by his failure to stay in bed a moment longer. Hestia was playing on the table. The mouse was ducked under the curled fingers of Sephiroth's right hand, peeking her head out now and then.

Sometimes she would dart through his fingers to sprint around the table before returning to her hiding place, as though trying to coerce Sephiroth into playing. Sephiroth found little solace in her usually amiable and amusing companionship. He did not protest when Cloud gently scooped up the blue-eyed mouse and settled her back in her cage. He watched through dull eyes as Cloud treated her to a couple of the almonds they kept as treats for her.

When the blond took his arm in hand afterwards and walked with him back to the bedroom, Sephiroth followed silently. They curled into bed together silently. He held Cloud close, craving the feel of his breathing against his chest.

When the smaller man couldn't calm his shaking, Sephiroth wiped the tears off his cheeks as Cloud bit his lip and cried silently. Eventually, long after Cloud had fallen into exhausted rest, Sephiroth managed to follow him into sleep. He was too tired even to dream.


	3. Chapter 3

WARNINGS FOR: Dissociation, PTSD, high levels of bitterness, extremely unpleasant situations, references to torture, and accidental self-harm. Please as always keep yourselves safe first!

**Chapter Three**

Sephiroth stood in the doorway to the previously seldom-used guest bedroom in his apartment, and tried to push aside the queasy uncertainty roiling inside him. He'd been impatient for Zack to be cleared to leave medical, but now that he was Sephiroth found himself feeling unprepared.

The guest room seemed too sparse—too barren for someone like Zack. He did not own any whimsical bobbles or colors to fill it with. His constant exhaustion didn't help his fruitless decoration efforts. He felt like a stripped gear, his mind whirring and fighting while gaining no ground.

It was not going to be easy. It already was not easy. Zack had not changed since he awakened. His every waking moment was spent in laughter and playfulness, and a blank refusal to speak of anything serious. The few times Sephiroth had tried in the past two days, he'd been greeted once by a laughing rejection of the topic, once by being completely ignored, and once with a glare so harsh and angry that he'd backed down with a quiet apology.

Everything he knew about this situation did not appear to apply to Zack. The young first was too determined. Cloud had called his laughter a protective reflex, and Sephiroth believed him. He would not force his way through it and leave Zack exposed, but he could not navigate the playful double-speak that Zack engaged in. He could not help him in subtle ways, or say the right things to help. He was beginning to think that there were no right things to say.

He returned to the living room, pulled down two of the rather bland company paintings of landscapes, and moved them into the guest room. He tried to breathe steadily, and did not let himself think about the tremor in his fingers that always seemed to accompany being powerless.

The best he could do was make his home as much Zack's as he was able. He could support Cloud, at least silently. He could make sure they were both well supplied on food and drink and necessities, and he could try not to run. At least the supplies were easy. The other pieces of the puzzle had already been a daily struggle against the urge to escape to training and missions and violence while he waited for 'normal' to return.

He'd just finally gotten used to life without Genesis and Angeal. He had only barely begun to mend his friendship with Zack. It had already been taking all the strength he had to put effort into that relationship. Now Zack needed him. He knew the facts of the situation. But the dread in his gut spoke volumes as to how entirely unprepared he was for another change.

He heard Cloud and Zack long before he saw them. Cloud's voice was clearer—stronger—and lilted in cheerful notations. Sephiroth noted the almost musical modulations with a nod. That meant happy subjects or playfulness so Zack must have been reasonably well outside of medical.

Zack's voice replied, still too far off for Sephiroth to make out his words, but his voice carried a wheeze of laughter. His body healed fast, but his lungs had been slow to recover. Sephiroth did not know why they had been so weakened. Zack had kept his medical interactions well and truly separate from them.

Cloud had proved himself adept at navigating Zack's moods, and keeping his calm while Zack laughed away pain and neatly deflected worry. Sephiroth couldn't help but be impressed by Cloud's dexterity while he himself stood frozen more often than not, waiting in a corner to be addressed or needed while Zack and Cloud bantered. More than once, he'd considered simply removing himself, but the other two didn't seem to mind his silence, and he was happier to be near them, just in case. Paranoia flared in the back of his mind, and he shook it off.

They still didn't know how Zack had been captured. Tseng had offered to hold a full debriefing and play the role of the pushy turk so that they could find out without Zack turning on them, but Sephiroth had turned him down.

"It's not about how Zack feels about Cloud and myself." He'd objected softly. "It is just about how he feels. He is not ready."

"He may never be." Tseng cautioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Do you have other leads to explore?"

"A few."

"Follow them first." Sephiroth insisted. "He deserves the time to recover."

Tseng had given him a look that spoke of pity and disapproval, then nodded his understanding and turned to go. Sephiroth did not know why the man had approached him, but he suspected that Tseng's offer was less about wanting to interrogate Zack, and more about wanting to make sure that he himself didn't.

He had to admit it was tempting. The absence of knowledge was killing him. If Zack would just tell them what had happened, perhaps they could help. But behind the laughter and constant chatter, Zack was silent. He spoke constantly, and said nothing. Even Sephiroth was not so dense about other people as to think that was a coincidence.

The chime of the elevator arriving on their floor startled him, and he broke out of his thoughts and eavesdropping. He could hear Cloud and Zack clearly now, but did not bother focusing on their words. They would not be saying anything of note. He looked over the room for imperfections, and huffed to himself. It was not enough, he felt. Nothing he did felt enough for his friend. But it would do.

He did not allow himself to watch the door for the other to to arrive. Paranoia was already running rampant in Zack, and he had made it clear that he was not pleased with how he was being hovered over. Sephiroth could still remember the meaningless smile with which Zack had suggested he take a chill pill while his eyes stared out at him as hard as stone.

He went to the kitchen and made tea, waiting for the sound of the door with the utmost intensity. A wave of exhaustion hit him as he watched the kettle, and he did not let it rock his body, but he let out a slow breath, struggling to find the balance between the human that his friends needed him to be, and the warrior who could keep this up a little while longer.

The front door beeped, then opened with a too-loud thump. Sephiroth opened his eyes again, forcing them to focus on the tea kettle. He glanced to the hand he'd put too close to the burner and slowly retracted it, rubbing at the reddened, burned skin. It would heal quickly, but he made a mental note to keep better track of how dissociated he was at any given moment.

"Welcome home." He called, less because it was routine and more because he didn't want to startle Zack with his presence.

"Aww, such a warm welcome." Zack cooed. "When are you two getting married again?"

Sephiroth fought back an unexpected wave of sorrow at the words, frowning to himself at the reaction. He would have to inspect why that joke hurt later. For now, he had bigger issues.

"Oh, don't tease him." Cloud replied, his voice still musically relaxed. From closer, Sephiroth recognized the strain of exhaustion that hid beneath the words. "He's awkward enough about the 'l' word."

Sephiroth turned back to the steam hissing out of the tea kettle and frowned. He knew Cloud was just keeping up with Zack's game, but he wondered if he ought to try and more liberally make his love known. Perhaps later. He did not think he could make any such profession with Zack nearby. Not as he was. He was too likely to mock and ridicule—anything to keep the focus off of himself.

"Tea?" He offered aloud, his voice flat, but no flatter than usual.

"You guys are trying to drown me in tea," Zack said with a wheeze of laughter. "It's not a cure-all, you know."

"Could have fooled me," Cloud teased back. "You want some or not?"

"Sure, why not," Sephiroth heard the other man flop onto the sofa. "Might as well surrender to you mother hens now and then. Pick your battles, right?"

"Right," Cloud laughed, and Sephiroth was certain that since he'd picked up on the bitterness in Zack's words that Cloud would have too.

It worried him deeply. He knew Zack couldn't enjoy being so callous. He must have been deeply, desperately unhappy at that moment to be so intentionally galling. Usually his mask was at least an innocent sort of cheerful. He tried to ignore how very much it chafed him to be spoken about in such a way—to be made the butt of Zack's jokes, and to stand by and take it. It was his pride at work, and he could not allow it to do harm when his friend was already hurting.

"Enough for three, then?" Sephiroth asked rather than speaking aloud any of his true thoughts.

"Geeze, who pissed in your breakfast, Seph?" Zack called from the other room. "You sound like you're reciting a eulogy."

Silently, Sephiroth asked any deity who might be listening for patience. He flexed his fingers. 'Seph' again. He hadn't been 'Seph' since the night at the Golden Saucer's haunted inn. They had finally moved past that particular flavor of bitterness. And now it had returned with a vengeance, in such a form that Sephiroth could not even snap back.

A familiar rattle caught his attention and he shifted his gaze to the elaborate mouse cage at one side of the dining room. Hestia had emerged from her most recently created escape point, and was leaping neatly across the furniture to him. Sephiroth breathed a sigh of relief. An easy joke to make in return.

"Hestia, probably." He called in response, even as he held a hand out to his enhanced pet.

She leapt neatly from the back of a chair onto his palm, then scurried up the sleeve of his jacket. Sephiroth didn't even squirm. She had become a familiar presence, and he no longer worried about unintentionally harming her. She was a lab mouse, after all, and enhanced with his own blood.

"Are you still letting her run around loose?" Cloud chided.

"Try stopping her." Sephiroth chuckled in response, once again on safe ground with his precocious mouse as the subject of discussion.

He pulled the kettle off as it began to whistle, even as Hestia emerged out of the collar of his jacket and snuggled between his lapel and neck, appearing to enjoy his radiating heat and companionship. He was pleased by how little she asked of him in terms of attention. She was content in his presence, and he in hers. It had taken time to build that trust. He tried to remember the patience it had taken, and to apply it in the current situation. But, of course, Zack was immeasurably different.

He carried the teacups to the living room neatly, with two cups in one hand, and the third sharing his right hand with the sugar. He and Cloud preferred their tea black, but Zack tended to sweeten his enormously, though it often seemed as though he did it simply to illicit a reaction. Sephiroth did not meet either of their gazes, bending to set the drinks on the table while they finished steeping.

He let his gaze wander to Zack, hunting the little details that would put pieces of the puzzle that his well being had become into place. He took in the fingernails—nearly regrown now—and the way he plucked at his pants in endless, mindless fidgets. He checked the nearly-invisible scars on his wrists from the bonds that had worn deep into his skin and never allowed it to heal. The scars would be gone completely in another week, along with every other mark of his captivity. Every other visible mark, at least.

"Counting the days till you can paint my nails at movie night?" Zack teased, though there was a warning in his voice.

"I have needed the practice." Sephiroth rebuffed, playing into the game as though it were a code. If he pretended it was a mission, it was a little easier.

"Did you get the guest room ready?" Cloud asked rather than forcing Sephiroth to continue the farce.

"Of course." Sephiroth replied, lifting his own tea to hold despite the fact that it wasn't ready. He looked to Cloud, and noticed those blue eyes dip down to his hands and narrow. He tilted the cup to ensure that the burn on his finger was at least mostly hidden, from Zack at least.

"Woah, you two were serious?" Zack laughed. "No offence, but I'm over the idea of having roommates, you know? I finally got my own place."

"I thought you said you were down for a sleepover." Cloud replied, leaning forward and propping his chin on one hand. "We got all excited and everything. Sephiroth made it nice, so you get the lap of luxury. Back when I was sleeping in there it was just a military-issue bunk and a dresser."

"Well, at least the bed is different." Zack chuckled rawly. "But seriously, you two. I'm fine. I don't need anyone babysitting me."

Sephiroth lifted one hand to press a finger to Hestia's head, rubbing her hairy scalp slowly and gently. She pressed into the touch eagerly, and it let him catch a breath. Cloud had worried about this. About Zack not accepting their help. And he'd said they would respect his wishes. But he had to try to convince him, at least once.

"I would appreciate if you'd stay," He murmured. "At least a little while."

"Why, to ease your paranoia?" Zack laughed.

Sephiroth didn't laugh in return. Neither did Cloud this time.

"If nothing else, it's protocol." Sephiroth murmured.

"You can't even look me in the face." Zack said through a chuckle.

"You told me not to study you." Sephiroth sighed, trying to hide his frustration. "I am trying to find a balance."

"Take it easy, Zack," Cloud said, a leading, playful note to his voice. "You've got a few days off, at least, and Sephiroth's a pretty good cook. You might as well enjoy the food and high def television for a few days. His apartment comes with a few perks, you know."

"Perks huh?" Zack asked, seeming to realize his facade was faltering at Cloud's leading. He leaned back, crossing his legs.

"Freezer full of ice cream," Cloud lifted fingers as he went, ticking off the merits of Sephiroth's apartment. "Ridiculously comfortable sheets and covers, best shower in the entire building, candy stash that would do even you proud, every channel you could ask for on the TV—Though I've never seen Sephiroth use it at all—and absolutely zero surveillance cameras."

"I'll take five," Zack teased, with a chuckle.

Sephiroth let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"How long does protocol dictate?" Zack asked, turning to Sephiroth.

"Three days." Sephiroth replied. "Unless a superior officer dictates it needs to be longer."

"Well, at least I can trust my 'superior officer' not to do that, right Seph?"

Sephiroth lifted his eyes for the first time, meeting Zack's piercing stare over lips that were still smiling. He locked eyes with him for a moment, searching for the easy-going affection that should have been there. He did not find it. He found sclera slowly starting to clear of the yellowed tint of jaundice, and a face that was still too gaunt, and hair that had been left in messy spikes instead of neatly styled.

* * *

_Zack woke screaming in medical twice while Sephiroth kept watch. Twice, with always the same words he'd spoken on that first, disastrous awakening._

_'No more!'_

_Sephiroth transcribed the words he screamed into the journal he and Cloud still passed between each other, now with some secrecy. Zack was clearly distrusting, and he did not want them to know any more than they did. Sephiroth had the decency to feel bad for keeping the notes, but not the confidence to stop._

_Cloud added the flashback he watched Zack suffer when the heart monitor disconnected during a particularly enthusiastic story. The sound of the piercing flatline had caused Zack to freeze up like a broken machine, Cloud had written, his handwriting shaky._

_With both of them, their friend had laughed off the incidents afterwards with a warning look in his eyes. With both of them, they'd let him change the subject, and followed where the conversation led._

* * *

Sephiroth blinked back into reality, realizing he'd paused too long and was now the recipient of significant looks from both his friends. Without delaying further, he nodded, leaning back in his seat.

"Of course, Zack." He murmured. "I wouldn't trap you."

"Then no big deal," Zack said with a flash of teeth that should have been a grin. "Three day sleepover."

He drank his tea without sugar. Sephiroth and Cloud both pretended not to notice.

The first day got significantly easier after the decision. Sephiroth spent much of it distant from the other two, listening to Zack laugh and complain almost easily over his terrible decoration skills. Cloud ended up helping him rearrange the guest room, the two of them laughing, and Zack appearing to enjoy his role ordering Cloud to move the furniture about because he was 'a wounded invalid, and needed the assistance of a strapping young man.'

For a while, it was as though it was normal.

Sephiroth had been relieved when Zack showed no signs of loss of appetite in medical, and the relief lasted now that they were sharing an apartment. He cooked, though it was far from his most inspired dish, and Zack and Cloud bantered and ate together. Then Cloud took the first misstep of the day on his part.

"So did you talk to Aerith at all?" He asked easily, propped up on one elbow.

"What for?" Zack asked with a shrug. "Tseng let her know I was fine."

"Well, she's your girl though, right?" Cloud quirked a half-smile that looked terribly attractive on him. Sephiroth slid his gaze away from the handsomely wry look and watched Hestia run enthusiastically on her latest mouse wheel.

Zack shrugged, the smile on his face becoming a little strained. "Yeah, but hey! I'd rather go see her when I'm back to being sexy, you know? Gotta build up my guns."

He flexed with a wink, but Cloud seemed undeterred.

"I'm sure she's worried." He said with a mild scolding tone in his voice.

"If she is, it's because you bunch of jerks worried her." Zack said firmly. "She's not even related to me. Company had no right telling her I was even missing. You had no right."

Sephiroth flicked his eyes to Zack, finding his expression serious for once, and his face a touch paler than before.

"You'd rather vanish from her life for weeks on end without a word?" Cloud asked, lifting his eyebrows.

Sephiroth shot him a look, frowning a little. The irritation on Cloud's features was alarming.

"Not your business." Zack snapped, standing abruptly.

He paused once on his feet, glaring at his friend. Cloud stayed seated, waiting. Sephiroth watched Zack's jaw clench once, then twice. The Soldier flexed his fingers, then rolled his shoulders back and fell behind a smiling mask once more.

"I think I'm going to call it a night." He said coldly. "If you two think you can keep your noses to yourself long enough for me to sleep."

He didn't wait for a reply, leaving the table in smooth steps. Sephiroth couldn't help but be relieved by how easily he moved compared to only a couple days ago. It didn't settle the writing worry in his stomach.

"Could'a gone better." Cloud muttered to himself thoughtfully, poking at the rest of his meal.

"You lost your patience." Sephiroth spoke in a whisper, his voice pitched low.

"Don't whisper." Cloud scolded firmly, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "Last thing anyone needs is to talk behind each other's backs."

Sephiroth blinked at him, then sighed, looking back to the table. Unlike Zack, he had no appetite. He picked at his dinner disinterestedly until Cloud let out a puff of breath.

"Yeah." Cloud muttered, closing his eyes tightly. "I lost my patience. Sorry."

Sephiroth only nodded, then reached out to place his hand on top of Cloud's in silent comfort and support. Cloud turned his hand over to grip his in return, his fingers running over the place he'd burned earlier.

"You've got to be more careful." He scolded gently, tracing where the mark should have been.

"I know." Sephiroth said. "I try. I'm not made for this."

"You weren't 'made' for anything." Cloud chastised, not unkindly. "You shouldn't talk about yourself like that."

Sephiroth slid his eyes over to the blue gaze that was waiting for him, and let out a breath at the worry in Cloud's face.

"Don't look so concerned." He murmured, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to Cloud's forehead. The contact settled the uneasiness within him, even if only for a moment.

"How can I not be?" Cloud murmured with a sigh, setting down his fork. "Think you can sleep? I know it's a little early."

"May as well." Sephiroth agreed, pushing back from the table and rising. He paused when Cloud's fingers rested on his arm, stalling him.

"Sephiroth," he murmured. "Everything's okay."

"No." Sephiroth said quietly. "It's not."

"It will be." Cloud insisted.

"Let's just go to bed." Sephiroth murmured, pulling away from the touch to put their dishes in the sink. He didn't bother washing them. He didn't have the energy to care that they were filthy. Cloud seemed to understand, and held his silence, a quiet, supportive presence by Sephiroth's side.

They curled together in bed, but did not get much sleep. A couple rooms away, they could hear someone pacing and fidgeting all night long. Neither of them dared to interrupt him, but neither of them could ignore his discomfort. Silently, but together, they listened to their friend suffer.

Sephiroth's mind whirred for a solution and clicked empty, out of ammunition. He ran through memories of Zack's words, hunting clues as though this were one of the logic puzzles of his childhood. His hands tremored uselessly, and Cloud stroked his forearms and twined their fingers together to steady him. Sephiroth tried to respond to the affection. But even being with Cloud seemed like an effort now.

Over the next three hours, Cloud slowly faded into sleep, too worn to resist any longer. Sephiroth rubbed his thumb slowly over Cloud's heartbeat, comforted by the steady rhythm of his sleeping. It was a sharp contrast to the heartbeat he could hear in the other room, clear only because of how silent the house was. Zack's pulse raced in thready staccato as he moved around the guest room in silent agitation.

Sephiroth tried not to think of the stress that had kept his own heart hammering for what felt like days straight. He forced his eyes closed, and tried to drown his senses in Cloud's solid and comforting presence.

When Sephiroth's exhausted mind finally surrendered to sleep, he was filled with nightmares. Genesis and Angeal stood before him, slowly crumbling to dust, and no matter how hard he fought or how fast he tried to move, he could not reach them. He made it to their sides just in time to watch them vanish completely.

When he turned back in the dream, it was to see Cloud and Zack standing there, waiting for him to return. He had only taken one step when Zack cracked like fine china and started to crumble.

He woke abruptly to Cloud calling his name in soft worry, and a hand carding through his hair. He shook off his lover's questions, drew him close to his chest, and did not try to sleep again that night.

The second day, from Sephiroth's point of view, was worse in every way. For one thing, it started with screaming.

It was not the sort of screaming that came from warriors on the battlefield. Nor the scream of a child, confronted with unknown figures in the dark. It was not a scream of terror or of rage. Sephiroth jolted awake to the sound of a scream like those he'd heard only in the aftermath of battle—The ripping, tearing shriek of the dying.

Sephiroth was out of the bed and in the doorway to the guest room before the sound worked its way through the layers of foggy thoughts clogging his mind. He didn't have time to second-guess the instinct to go to Zack's side. He caught one glimpse of the Soldier arched on the bed as though in agony, and some protective instinct he hadn't know he possessed kicked in.

He was at his side with his hands on his shoulders gently before Cloud was even past the door to the bedroom.

"Zack?" He called.

Blue eyes flashed open and Zack caught a breath. For just a moment, his eyes were huge and afraid. His mouth was open as though he were about to scream again. Tears gathered, clumping heavy eyelashes together as they threatened to fall. Then faster than Sephiroth could compute in his half-asleep panic, Zack burst into laughter.

He pulled back a little as the First lifted a hand to cover his face, laughing rawly and hysterically until he brought on a coughing fit. Cloud hovered in the doorway, an anxious presence in the queasy atmosphere of the room.

"You should have seen your face," Zack wheezed when he'd regained himself, wiping the tears out of his eyes while grinning wildly. "Is Ma Sephiroth gunna scare the bad dreams off for me?"

Sephiroth's eyes narrowed, and he backed off, stung despite himself.

"Are you okay?" Cloud asked from the doorway, rubbing his eyes.

"I'm fine." Zack replied, waving a hand and flopping back in the bed. The sheen of sweat on his skin and the pinprick pupils said otherwise. "And you should knock before you run into a guest's room."

"Of course." Sephiroth replied dully. Then, because it was true, he added "I'm glad you are alright."

Zack did not respond, but Sephiroth felt his blue eyes on him as he left the room. Cloud watched him pass, but said nothing. Sephiroth heard them talking behind him, but let the words wash over him as he lifted his phone from the bedside table.

"He's high strung." Zack commented, voice still raw.

Sephiroth scrolled through his PHS to the active missions folder.

"He's worried about you." Cloud said calmly and not without affection. "He'll be alright once he's sure you are."

"How many times do I have to tell you two I'm fine?" Zack asked with a low, wounded-sounding chuckle.

Sephiroth scrolled through the level rankings, hunting for something that would give him some glimmer of a challenge—some taste of freedom.

"Couple more." Cloud said with what sounded like an honest chuckle. "Sorry for getting on your case last night."

"It's cool." Zack replied after a moment. "You seem pretty high strung. Plus, big panda-bear circles under the eyes. You should sleep more, Spike."

"I'll give it a go." Cloud chuckled. "You too, right? You're still a little ways off from selling more tickets to the gun show."

"Yeah." Zack said with a strained chuckle in reply. "Cloud would you tell Seph… No, nevermind. Night, buddy. Get some shut eye while it's still night, would ya?"

"Since you asked nicely, I'll put it on my schedule." Cloud teased in reply. "Sleep well."

Sephiroth claimed one of the missions, and stood to get dressed.

"Don't go." Cloud said softly, standing in the doorway.

"I need to." Sephiroth replied.

"It's dangerous."

"That is the point."

"I can't handle you running off on missions." Cloud objected.

"I can't handle standing here useless." Sephiroth fought to keep his voice clear and calm. "I just need… A moment. Just a moment in control."

"And you're only in control when you're fighting monsters?" Cloud asked, clearly skeptical.

"I don't need you to understand." Sephiroth murmured, tucking his chin and pausing in pulling out his coat. "Just to respect that I know myself and my needs."

Cloud watched him with a sad, lonely look in his eyes, and Sephiroth's guilt spiked in his chest. Then the blond lowered his head and nodded.

"Of course." He murmured. "You gotta deal with it in your way. I'll be here when you're done. But for the love of the gods, Seph, be careful."

Sephiroth nodded his agreement, and dressed in his uniform. He strapped on his armor, kissed Cloud softly where he lay in bed, and ran like a coward from his own home.

For a while it did help. The beast was impressive, and strong, and had a gift for healing the damage he did to it. His hands never shook when they were curled into fists, or wrapped around Masamune's hilt.

But when the creature was dead, it was simply one more thing he had destroyed. He looked upon it with no satisfaction before turning to go home.

He arrived back at his apartment to hollow laughter, and an entryway filled with meaningless flowers and get-well cards for a man who refused to acknowledge he was hurt.

By the doorway sat the lilies that Zack had nearly broken down over when he first awakened in medical. They drooped, forgotten, as far away from the epicenter of Zack's disaster as they could be. Sephiroth stood just inside the door, staring at them blankly and not even registering the way they made him itch.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The worst part was waiting for the next blow—the next disaster.

Sephiroth came home to an apartment full of ugly forced laughter and hidden glares. The air carried the anxiety of a war zone. Old habits of hypervigilance settled in around Sephiroth like a moth-eaten coat, unused since Wutai. It was exhausting. Sephiroth could tell even Cloud, who had previously been handling everything significantly better than him, was starting to wear thin in the face of Zack's forced cheer and hidden sharpness.

It was too early, Sephiroth thought, for the air to be so thick with tension. The mission had only taken him two hours. It was only six in the morning, yet Zack was already up and about. Sephiroth had stood in the hallway outside for some time, listening in as Zack laughed as though Cloud had been joking with him. When he entered the apartment, the strained look in Cloud's eyes told a different story.

"When do you have to go to work?" Cloud had asked soon after Sephiroth returned, trying to stay light, even as the atmosphere weighed heavy around them.

"In about an hour." Sephiroth had replied, guilty and weary. He wanted to tell Cloud that it was better that way—that he could only make things worse here. But it wasn't fair already. Cloud was carrying so much of the burden… "I'll make it a half day." He offered instead.

Cloud let out a heavy breath, but nodded his understanding.

"If you two are hashing out who's going to babysit me, I'm going back to bed." Zack groused, a smile on his face like he was teasing, but a look in his eye that said he was not. Any hope that the nightmare last night might have shaken loose Zack's stubborn, bitter behavior died in an instant.

Sephiroth didn't have the energy to object. He just sighed and lowered his eyes. Zack snorted at him outright, shaking his head and sweeping back into the guest room.

"I might be the one needing a break tonight." Cloud said, lowering his eyes as well. "I'm sorry. I'm doing my best, but no matter what I try, he just won't…"

"When's he due down at Medical?" Sephiroth asked softly. "I'll come back and take over then."

"Twelve thirty." Cloud whispered, glancing up at him. "Would that be okay?"

"Of course." Sephiroth whispered. "Sorry. For vanishing."

"I understand." Cloud said wearily. "Thank you. For offering. We'll be fine till you're home."

Sephiroth leaned down and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to Cloud's lips. It was a comforting feeling, the connection between them. Even dimmed by stress, and muted by fear, the warmth that spread through him when Cloud relaxed under the kiss was palpable. Perhaps even more powerful than usual in wake of all they were going through.

"Breakfast?" He asked softly as he pulled back.

"Not yet," Cloud sighed, eyes still lightly closed. "He was up when I got up, and… I dunno, Seph. He was just standing in the middle of the kitchen. He didn't even look awake until I tried to talk to him. I don't think he went back to sleep last night."

"I suspect not," Sephiroth agreed softly. "Especially with nightmares as a likely outcome. If he continues as he has, I suspect he will not sleep again until he is alone."

"He shouldn't be alone." Cloud shook his head with a tight expression, his lips pulled down at the corners.

"I know." Sephiroth felt his shoulders droop with the breath he let out. "But to keep him here would be to betray his trust. He still has two more nights with us, Cloud. Give him time."

"I'm trying." Cloud lifted his bright blue eyes. "It's just that every third thing he says is an insult, or…" He trailed off, swallowing, his lips tightening again before he shook off the thought. "Nevermind."

"I'll cook something for breakfast before I have to go in," Sephiroth offered. "If you'd like."

"Yes please," Cloud rubbed a hand over his eyes wearily. "I could really go for an omelette, and I can't do them like you do."

"I'll make one for Zack too." Sephiroth lifted a hand to stroke Cloud's hair, then dropped it again with a soft sigh. The feel of his sword was still too close for him to be comfortable touching his partner yet.

"Did it help?" Cloud asked, eyes on Sephiroth's hand. He'd noticed. He always did.

"For a little while." Sephiroth agreed after a moment. "And then it was just a corpse."

Cloud watched him closely a moment, then reached out and carefully curled his hand around Sephiroth's. His fingers twitched under the touch, but he withstood it. For Cloud's sake, he told himself. And it was easy to do things if they were for Cloud's sake.

"Anything in particular today?" Cloud asked softly, squeezing Sephiroth's hand.

"A meeting." Sephiroth said blankly. "That's all. Paperwork, but that's normal. I have a speech next week. Tseng should be giving me the script the president has prepped for me this time."

"I hope this writer is better than the last one." Cloud gave his hand one more squeeze, then pulled Sephiroth towards the kitchen. "You sounded like a brochure at the last press conference."

Sephiroth flashed him a small smile, but it was hard to do. Especially difficult knowing that Zack was listening to them. That they couldn't talk about what was really weighing on them both, for fear of hurting or alienating him further.

That was why Sephiroth hadn't told Cloud the weight of his meeting today. Zack didn't need to know how hard Heidegger was pushing to get him back in the field, muscular atrophy and mental health be damned. It was Heidegger's way. Push a tool until it broke, and then pull out the next. And hadn't he just a little while ago been commenting on how 'young Strife was 'practically a new Zack Fair'? Sephiroth had to make sure that didn't happen. Not here. Not to these two. He'd seen the toll Heidegger's leadership had taken on the Turks—A finely-honed poison dart being forced into use as a wrecking ball. He wouldn't let the same happen to Soldier.

Or, at least, not to Zack.

Cooking was like battle for him. A task with a right and a wrong course of action. A series of calculations that could lead to disaster or accomplishment. And much like fighting, Sephiroth was excellent at it, though not in the same effortless way. It took focus to maintain his patience and attention. He found, as he cooked the omelettes, that the forced attention was welcome.

It kept him from thinking about how tired Cloud looked, and how negligent he'd been to leave him the night before. It kept him from thinking of the bright spot of blood he'd noticed on Zack's re-growing fingernail, as though he'd been picking at the healing skin there.

He made them omelettes. He kissed Cloud's forehead. He rapped lightly on Zack's door and called through that there was breakfast. And then he had to go to work. Or, more specifically, to his meeting.

With Heidegger—a man who saw tools when he looked at some people, and targets

when he looked at others. And a man who was, at least temporarily, his boss.

He knew it wasn't going to go well. He knew it was just going to worsen the situation and his emotional state. But he had to keep everything moving swiftly and smoothly, because the alternative would be to feed Zack to the corporate wolves. As frustrated as he was with his friend at the moment, he would never abandon him to that. He bit back the guilt that thought thrust on him, and tried to breathe through the wave of emotion without showing it. He had not meant to abandon Zack to _anything_.

He felt himself dissociating, and this time he let it happen. He let the world take on that foggy, unfeeling quality. Let himself observe as though from a distance as he walked down the hall. He knew his face would be stony and impassive. Maybe even a little bored. But that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Not when he had to be calm and collected in the face of his new 'boss.'

He waited outside the office, observing absently the fact that his door had been altered from the Shinra standard to look like smooth hardwood. A moment of close inspection confirmed Sephiroth's suspicions—It was at best a thin layer of wood above a standard metal frame. Though the door opened with a handle rather than a keycard, it was still just as bullet proof. The authentic, rough-hewn exterior was just for show. But then, Heidegger was all about shows of force.

He knocked twice, and waited. Distantly, he hoped Heidegger would have forgotten their meeting. But he could already hear the man moving inside, the sound of hands tugging on coat sleeves, straightening the fitted green suit that set him apart from Soldier and Troopers both, as someone who thought himself above his warriors.

And standing right there, even as he heaved out a breath of impatience, Sephiroth's mind supplied him with an unwelcome, unforgettable image.

His breath left him. Inside his mind, his photographic memory was turning over the image of Zack, his face pale, his hair stringy, his body bloody and dirty and his hand dangling limp off the stretcher. Panic clenched down around Sephiroth in an instant, constricting his lungs, like he was being squeezed to death.

The door buzzed open. A powerful, booming voice ushered him in. He didn't have time for this.

With a silent apology to Cloud, he severed his emotions the same way he would have approaching Hojo's labs or a particularly bad mission. He felt his body go still, and his heart go empty, and he greeted it gratefully as he stepped into Heidegger's office.

The whole place was hardwood and sleek wooden meeting tables and plush carpet—a cabin-like rejection of the modern Shinra style. There was a lusciously crafted pool table taking up a great deal of the room, and Sephiroth glanced away from the hunting trophies that adorned his wall. Killing for sport, while he could understand the heady rush it must bring, was not something he cared to consider.

There was an intricate ship in a bottle sitting on Heidegger's desk. It looked too delicate and precise to have been built by such an easily-infuriated and heavy-handed man. Sephiroth suspected Turk involvement.

It was good he was dissociated, he thought, because a wave of nostalgia swept through him at the thought of how very different Lazard's office had been—how he had embraced cutting-edge technology, and partnered with Reeve to make sure that his work space was as up to date as it could be. He didn't have much cause to see the smiling engineer these days. It was something he considered to be a minor pity.

But he could not imagine Reeve visiting this room to update materials. What materials were there to update? Heidegger didn't even seem to have an office computer at his desk. Though he did have a map of the world hanging on his wall. Sephiroth tried not to look at it. Tried not to looked at the x-ed out cities. After all, he had often been that 'x'.

Finally, he was out of things to look at but Heidegger himself. He met the man's eyes, and was not surprised when Heidegger quickly found somewhere else to look. It wasn't that the man was afraid of him, Sephiroth was sure of that, but he did not know why Heidegger always refused his eye contact. Perhaps he simply did not find Sephiroth worthy.

Sephiroth stood at attention before him, his eyes unfocused as he gazed at the meaningless decorations of rank and prowess on Heidegger's chest. He let the director's words wash over him. Heidegger rarely wasted time with greetings that required any answer, so though Sephiroth knew that he had been acknowledged by name, there was no need for him to speak. It was just as well.

He kept half an ear on the man's booming, sure voice. He was certain it was how he'd gotten as far as he had. He took what he wanted, and he took it loudly and without letting anyone miss the fact that it was his. A part of his brain heard every word Heidegger said, and filed it away for further thought later. He had the distant impression that he would not like what he was hearing when he was in a position to like or dislike anything again.

Sephiroth did not daydream. He had never really understood the concept. Usually when he found his mind quiet, he used the time to plan or rehearse coming social situations. This time, he just drifted. He felt nothing, and thought nothing, and let Heidegger's words fall into his mind and file themselves away, files downloading for later.

Which was why he only realized he was expected to reply to something after Heidegger cleared his throat. Loudly. Sephiroth reversed his blabbering, looking for the question. There wasn't one. Just lots of complaints. Mainly about Zack's absence from the ranks. But Sephiroth supposed he was expected to respond to the series of accusations.

"I don't know what you want me to tell you." He said dryly, eyes on Heidegger. "There's no medical professional in the building who would clear him for duty. And neither would I, as his CO."

"Bah!" Heidegger waved a hand, as though Zack's medical soundness were a small technicality. Sephiroth watched the track of his hand as though it was in slow motion. Distantly, vaguely, he wondered if the man before him had ever managed to swat a fly in his life.

"We've wasted huge amounts of company resources hunting for Fair," Heidegger said, still gesturing and shaking his head. "And I expect him back out on the field to compensate for that!"

Sephiroth's stomach lurched, but he ignored it. A physical symptom of an emotion he was not currently allowing himself to feel. But the quiet distance of dissociation turned cold around him as the wording sank in.

"Surely you're using the word 'hunt' to mean 'search for,' Director." Sephiroth said, slowly, his eyes lifting from where they'd rested distant on Heidegger's chest to glare directly at his face.

"What?" The man blinked, as though realizing who, exactly, he was talking to. "Oh yes, yes, of course." Heidegger's clumsy agreement was not reassuring. Sephiroth made a mental note to more thoroughly thank the Turks for their diligence.

"Zachary represents more than a monetary investment," Sephiroth said before Heidegger could regain his balance or unleash his temper. "He is a shining example of everything Soldier should mean to the people of Midgar, and a desperately needed one after the—" He didn't want to talk about it. The name tasted bitter and harsh on his tongue. He breathed through it, allowing himself only the briefest of pauses. "—PR nightmare that was the Genesis clones. I would think keeping him healthy and endeared to the company would be a high priority."

There was a tense moment of silence. For a second, Sephiroth saw Heidegger's mask slip. Saw the boiling rage beneath. He did not waver before the glare—only returned it with his own dead-eyed stare, and waited.

"You misunderstand me," Heidegger said finally, the anger replaced once more by a bushy, bearded smile. "I only thought, of course, that the young man would be eager to go back to work! Get back to feeling normal and all that." He gave a small guffaw, as though he'd said something amusing.

Sephiroth watched him flatly, but nodded his assent. He couldn't afford to fight this. He couldn't afford to risk Zack fighting for him.

"Of course, director." He said, flatly. His hand twitched as Heidegger smiled at the term of address. He wanted to kill him. It would have been easy. "If there's anything I can do to fill in the gap left my Zachary's recovery, I'll gladly continue filling in."

"Very glad to hear you say it my boy," Heidegger said with a grin that let his teeth show behind his grand beard. He looked deeply, deeply pleased, and Sephiroth was assaulted with the unpleasant sensation that he'd given the man just want he wanted.

"Is there anything else you wished to talk about?" Sephiroth said softly. "If not, I believe I have some paperwork to do for you."

"Off with you then, my boy," Heidegger waved a hand dismissively, even as he stood from behind his table. "And tell young Fair to heal up fast!"

"I'll do my best to ensure he's ready for duty quickly, director." Sephiroth agreed, before falling into attention and turning to leave.

"No salute for your superior officer?" Heidegger asked snidely behind him.

Sephiroth froze halfway to the door. His hand itched. He could envision how easy it would be to kill Heidegger right then and there. The man didn't even wave his hand fast enough to swat a fly. He wouldn't stand a chance. But after that… Inquiries. Perhaps prison. Perhaps Hojo's labs again. Certainly a separation from Cloud—from Zack—from his life. Not worth it.

"It would be against protocol to salute you indoors." Sephiroth said instead of succumbing to the murderous temptation. "And disrespectful to your station to break protocol. However, if you would prefer…"

"Just testing you!" Heidegger laughed, throwing his head back as he guffawed at the joke, which had not been a joke until Sephiroth had made it sound foolish. He did not attempt to smile.

"Of course," He replied, calmly. "I will expect to hear from you soon regarding the missions you need covered, director."

He escaped the room before Heidegger could ask him for anything more. He walked to the elevator stiffly, trying to break free of the rage slowly coiling within him. He could suppress pain, and fear, and sorrow, but rage? Rage had always been a fuel for him—encouraged by his guardian as a child, and praised by Shinra's higher-ups. It was not something he was used to locking away.

"Sorry, Cloud." He murmured to himself as he stood in the elevator, watching his dead-eyed reflection in the shiny metal of the door as he zipped upwards towards his office.

Paperwork was a welcome distraction—the already present dissociation took hold while he signed page after page, reading through mission reports of no importance without concern. He only scanned them to look for names that he cared for, or events that related to Zack's abduction. But there was nothing.

There was a note from Tseng, reminding him that as much as he understood the reluctance, he needed to talk to Zack, and soon. There was protocol to follow—interrogation to be done. Zack was important, to the Turks as well as the Soldiers it seemed, but Shinra needed to know what their enemies had learned, what their Soldier had gone through, what Zack had said.

Sephiroth couldn't envision Zack giving in under torture and spilling secrets. But then, he couldn't have imagined Zack as he had been the past few days either. Imagination was not his strong suit. Experimentation suited him better.

Perhaps, he thought to himself as he set aside Tseng's note and allowed a brief moment of fantasy, he could reverse engineer Zack's injuries on Heidegger. That could prove most enlightening.

He looked to the clock and let out a breath. Time always slid by when he was out of his own mind. It was nearing twelve thirty, and so it was time for him to relieve Cloud and take Zack to his appointment in medical. Perhaps, he thought, that would make it better. Seeing Cloud often helped his emotional state. Certainly things had been different between them since Zack's disappearance—distant and quiet and strained—but Cloud had always been there to ask if he was alright during dissociative states—to provide him an anchor and to offer him some comfort. Surely there were some things that never changed.

He let out a soft, wistful sigh as he reached the elevator and shook off the thought. He should not be Cloud's priority. And more than that, he should not be counting on Cloud to draw him out of his emotional damage. Especially not now, when Cloud's patience and affection were so badly needed by their friend. Sephiroth grit his teeth, and tried to put himself back together during his elevator ride. He touched the wall, felt the smooth chill of it. Listened close for sounds to anchor himself to. Took deep breaths, felt the way they shifted his body, and tried to reconnect his mind to the space around him.

His slow reconnection was abruptly stopped by the intense and inexplicable knowledge that something was wrong. He blinked his eyes open, staring at the number 47 above the elevator's doors, still nearly a dozen floors from his apartment. He sifted through the information he'd been picking up, hunting for what had thrown his world off-kilter on a subconscious level.

Sound carried through the elevator shafts in disjointed snippets of conversation from all over the building, punctuated by the strained sounds of overworked cables. Every Soldier in the building had gotten used to being inundated by fragmented phrases, pieces of conversation, unwelcome gossip, even the sounds of more...intimate encounters.

But there was something in the hum of voices today that made Sephiroth's stomach lurch in uncertainty. It took another five floors for him to isolate the discordant note in the regular hum of words and laughter. Someone was yelling—no, screaming. Their voice was sharp and bellowing, and it only seemed to be getting louder the higher the elevator went. Then he realized why that furious voice had made him feel so sick.

Zack.

'You had no right!' The voice screamed, distantly. The elevator's cable groaned in displeasure, interrupting the words a moment. '—fucking do this?"

A motor hit a sticky patch and whined in annoyance. Sephiroth didn't even flinch at the awful, grating sound of the mechanics. His gaze was focused on the elevator's ceiling, his ears straining to pick up every word. At his sides, his hands were twitching, fighting the urge to pry the doors open.

Zack couldn't be yelling at Cloud. Could he?

The doors opened with a cheerful chime, and Sephiroth pushed sideways through them rather than waiting.

"—idn't know what to do." Cloud's voice was so soft—so small. Sephiroth hadn't been able to hear it until he was on his floor. He sounded choked, and afraid.

"Well you were fucking wrong!" Zack's voice screamed.

Something shattered. Sephiroth broke into a sprint, and slammed the door to his apartment open.

Inside, he found a ruin of a room. There were flowers strewn on the floor—lilies thrown in his path and crushed under heavy boots. And right there, in the living room, almost a straight line from the door, Cloud was standing. He had his arm raised to guard his eyes. As Sephiroth watched, a drop of blood fell from a ceramic shard in Cloud's arm, and a tear streaked down his cheek. When he turned his wide blue eyes to the door, his expression was hopeless—wounded.

"Cloud?" Sephiroth asked, all his concerns about his own mental state discarded in an instant at the look that Cloud was giving him.

Cloud shook his head, silently, and walked swiftly towards him, then past him, and out the door. He didn't say a word. But another tear dropped off his chin as Sephiroth watched. Then the door was closed, and the apartment was silent.

A small laugh—almost a giggle—sounded from in the next room.

"Welcome home," Zack called, bitterly. "Found a little journal of yours while you were out. I didn't peg you as a diary kind of guy, Sephiroth."

Shit, Sephiroth thought. He did not say it out loud. He rarely said words like that out loud. But he thought it again, as loudly as he had thought anything that day. Then he walked slowly forward, stepping over the fallen flowers.

"Zack," He greeted softly. He did not allow him to use his full name, even as angry as he was. They had gotten past that, he'd hoped, in the haunted inn. He wanted them to have gotten past that. But Zack had just...

"Did you hurt Cloud?" He asked, and he knew his eyes were cold when they landed on Zack—knew and did not stop them from their chill, even as Zack grinned at him with a smile that was far from kind.

"He's a Soldier, isn't he?" Zack teased, almost sing-songing. "He's made of sterner stuff. Or he _ought_ to be. What kind of Soldier can't even dodge a little bowl?"

Sephiroth glanced at the shattered remains of the ceramic dish. He mentally catalogued them, and matched the shard of ceramic he'd seen sticking out of Cloud's arm to the discarded items. Then he looked up to Zack with a dark, angry frown.

"One who doesn't expect to be attacked by a friend," He replied, darkly.

Zack lifted the familiar journal that Sephiroth and Cloud had kept track of his injuries in.

"I don't think you should be the one bitching about betrayals, Seph." Zack cooed.

'Seph' again, Sephiroth thought, surprised by the sorrow that welled in him at the nickname—at Zack's cold, angry, wounded grin.

"Zack—"

"I have an appointment to get to, don't I?" Zack asked, tossing the journal carelessly onto the coffee table. "Unless apartment cleaning can't wait mister OCD."

The good news, Sephiroth thought to himself as he stood still and silent and Zack brushed past him towards the door, was that he wasn't waiting for the next disaster anymore.

The next blow had come, and it had landed hard.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** Not much longer now...****

**Chapter Five**

Medical welcomed Zack with open arms. Sephiroth watched him move among the nurses and orderlies playfully, grinning and smiling and greeting them all by name as if he'd remembered rather than reading them off their tags. For their part, the employees seemed charmed and delighted.

Sephiroth watched it all with a taste like acid in his mouth. He did not smile at Zack's jokes and laughter. He did not respond when Zack tried to draw him into the playful, lying banter.

Zack had made Cloud bleed. He had made Cloud cry. And Sephiroth felt cold knowing that he could not fully blame him for either—could not hate him for it. Certainly could not do him harm in return as he would for any other who caused Cloud pain. He did not know what to feel. He only blinked into reality when one of the nurses he'd spoken to during Zack's stay approached him as Zack wandered back into an exam room.

"You see?" the nurse murmured to Sephiroth with a warm, reassuring smile. "He's remarkably resilient. Already back to his old self!"

Sephiroth gave her a small nod so that she would leave him be, but he had eyes only for Zack—Still laughing. It must have been good for the nurses to think it was a sign of wellbeing. Sephiroth only felt tired, and sad. He was very aware that Zack laughing _often_ did not mean that Zack should be laughing _always_. He had seen his friend deal with pain before, and it had never looked like open, happy laughter.

He'd known the smiling mask was a lie. He'd known there was anger behind it. And yet, it had still come as a surprise to see just how much fury Zack was hiding beneath those sharp grins.

Maybe, he thought, Zack was right not to visit his flower girl. If he'd thrown something at her, she might not have come through it with just a cut.

Sephiroth pulled his phone out abruptly as he waited for Zack, opening up his messages and typing fast.

"Are you okay?" He sent to Cloud, wishing he could accompany the insufficient phrase with a worried touch, but knowing that it was his place now to stay by Zack's side while Cloud could not.

He waited for a reply, watching the messages screen instead of looking around the room. He hoped the people around would assume he was busy. A message arrived, and he clicked it quickly.

"Just a scratch." The reply said. "Sorry for running."

Sephiroth took in the short sentences—the dull punctuation—the lack of Cloud's usual symbols to express his emotions. He was not good at people, but he knew Cloud. And he knew that the way he had sent his response meant that no, he was not okay. But he was unwell in ways that no cure would fix.

"What can I do for you?" He asked through the phone. His hands were steady and sure in the keystrokes, but it felt like they were the only piece of him that was.

A long delay this time. Sephiroth wondered if Cloud was typing the whole time—would it be a long message? Would it be something he did not want to hear? Was Cloud responding at all? Had he needed to re-think his message and re-type it? Or was he ignoring that Sephiroth had asked?

The phone chirped. Sephiroth clicked the new message.

"Stay with him." Cloud's message ordered, and Sephiroth took the order without consciously recognizing it. "He's hurt &amp; he needs us, but I need a break."

"I have him." Sephiroth replied. "I will keep him safe. And I am here for you. If you need me."

He hesitated a moment, then re-opened his message.

"I love you." He typed. Then he deleted the words rather than sending them and snapped his phone closed in frustration.

There was a long pause. He could hear the distant sounds of laughter and relaxed conversation from the other room, and knew the doctors were getting no substance from talking with Zack— He was hiding from them just as deeply as he was hiding from him and Cloud.

The phone chirped, and Sephiroth forced himself to pull it out despite the lingering unease of his own deleted message.

"Thank you," Cloud had written. "Be careful, okay? He's close to breaking. Stay safe."

"We will both be safe." Sephiroth replied, wincing at how bland and unassuring it sounded. He hunted for an image to cheer it up, or give it some emotional resonance, but there was no emoticon for 'I will guard both myself and our wounded friend from both external and internal harm.' He settled for a representational heart, and sent the message.

And then he was alone with his thoughts, standing in the corner of the medical waiting room. He didn't like being seen sitting down. He didn't particularly like sitting down at all. Especially not now. His heart was still thundering, mako screaming through his blood, responding to his displeasure and unease with violent intensity. He tried to whether the internal thunderstorm of energy.

It was not a quick thing, the doctor's visit. Zack had physical therapy to run through, and blood work to be done, and endurance testing to be certain his lungs and heart were recovering well. Sephiroth paced the empty corner of the waiting room, trying not to eavesdrop. It took him roughly an hour to realize how anxiously the people at the front desk were watching him.

With a glance towards the slightly pale secretary, he slowly folded into a seat, and picked a magazine at random off the shelf beside him. It took him four or five times turning slowly through all the pages pages without really focusing to realize what he was looking at. And when he did, he wished he'd kept pacing.

Genesis smiled at him from one page, and Angeal from the other. 'Keepers of Honor, Red Leather, Study Group Remember Lost Soldiers" the headline proclaimed over the stories.

Sephiroth's heart hammered, desperate, miserable. He'd tried to avoid this. To avoid seeing them. He never wanted to again—not after the horror of the copies. Not after watching them fall apart. All the bitterness, and jealousy and loss…

If Angeal had been there, how different this would have been for Zack. How little of this foolishness Genesis would have put up with. Sephiroth was still staring at the page without really seeing them when he heard Zack's laughter drawing closer. He snapped the magazine closed, rolled it up, and slid it into his deep jacket pocket. Standing abruptly, he tried to school his features back into passive calm.

'It's too much,' he thought abruptly, the words appearing out of nowhere like a wound he'd failed to notice. He shook the feeling off mentally, nodding a greeting to Zack, one hand still over the hidden magazine. Zack gave him a broad, meaningless grin, but he was pale and looked shaken. Sephiroth wondered how long it had been. A glance at the clock told him two hours. It felt like moments.

"I see my ride's here." Zack laughed, almost wickedly. "You ready, 'dad'?" The question was snide and sharp. The woman behind the counter chuckled. She did not seem to have noticed the hidden barbs.

"Of course," Sephiroth replied, softly. His voice sounded painfully flat. Just as he'd hoped. Better flat than breaking.

He let Zack lead the way. He ignored the way Zack waved carelessly at the people they were leaving behind, ignored the strained smile. He couldn't focus on those. He felt inches from breaking. There was a piece of him that wanted to hurt Zack as he had hurt Cloud. A piece of him that wanted to wipe the fake smiles off his face by force.

It was a piece of himself that had always existed, and a piece that he tried everyday to escape and repress. He had gotten very good at locking it away. But the solid walls of control around his actions seemed to be weakening every moment in Zack's presence.

He would not break. He would do Zack no harm. But anxiety churned within him at the thought of going back to that apartment and facing his friend's wrath, unbridled by the public eye. What would he do if Zack turned on him like he had Cloud? What would he do if Cloud was put in danger again? At what point did protecting and trying to help Zack become endangering themselves?

He still didn't know how to proceed by the time they were at his door. He unlocked it without looking at Zack, and was spared further questioning when Zack swept past him. Sephiroth stood still, watching his friend vanish into the apartment with heavy stomping footsteps. He looked slowly down at the floor, and felt the inexplicable urge to laugh at the sight of the trampled lilies there. It would not have been a kind laugh.

He spent the afternoon silently straightening and cleaning the apartment, thrown into such chaos by Zack's anger. He briefly considered burning the rumpled notebook, or hiding it again. But eventually he just picked it up off the floor and placed it on the coffee table. There was no good in denying or hiding its existence now.

He did not know what to do with the trampled flowers. They were not his to throw away, but neither were they the soft-petaled signs of affection they had been.

Eventually he simply salvaged the flowers he could, and lay the broken ones beside the vase on the table near the door. A part of him hoped that Zack would see the destruction he had left and reconsider his anger. But the longer the hours dragged by in silence, the less likely he found that outcome.

Zack neither joined him for the dinner he cooked, nor spoke to him. Sephiroth left a plate for him wrapped in the fridge, and made sure he knew it was there. Then he shared his own dinner with Hestia, grateful enough for the company that he was more than willing to make her her own plate of rice and savories. If it weren't for her mako metabolism, he was certain either he or Cloud would have succeeded in creating a very fat mouse by now.

He enjoyed her company. She was quiet, undemanding, but present. She looked to him often, not just in the frequent glances of all prey-animals wherein they took in their environment, but in specific glances towards him, as if trying to understand. He tried to be supportive of her efforts.

He sat with her while she finished her meal, even after he himself had long since lost his appetite. He put his own leftovers away in the empty kitchen, then held a hand down to his mouse. Hestia regarded his offer a moment, then sprinted up his fingers, darting up to his shoulder in a blur of white. Mice were already made for scampering, and thanks to being enhanced by his blood, Hestia was unusually skilled at the motion. As well as many other things.

Sephiroth smiled softly as she bumped her little head against his ear, rubbing her cheek against his. He lifted a finger for her to rub against, crooking it slowly to scratch her head, even as he moved towards her current enclosure.

It had been difficult to find one that would hold her, so he had given up. She seemed content to stay in their apartment, and usually returned to her living space when she was done getting into trouble. So he merely did his best to make that space comfortable for her, and ensure that he kept half an eye out for her in inconvenient places like beneath the stove.

"Good night," he murmured to her, lowering his hand carefully down to her little nest of bedding. "Sleep well, Hestia."

She eyed him a moment, stepping down his shoulder but pausing there, observing him. Then she turned and returned to her home, bundling herself in her nest and going about washing her whiskers. Sephiroth watched her in return a moment, then forced himself towards his room.

He pulled out his phone once his door was shut, sitting in the dark, staring at the screen, wondering if he should text Cloud. Would it be invasive? Rude? Unpleasant?

Eventually, his concerns for Cloud's feelings were outweighed by the fear that if he _did not_ send a message, Cloud would take it as a lack of care.

'Are you coming home tonight?' He typed, stooped over his phone, his eyes weary and listless as they stared down fixedly at the screen.

Cloud's reply took a while. A long while. Sephiroth counted the seconds. When the phone finally buzzed, Sephiroth wasn't surprised by the news. But it did hurt.

'No, Seph. I'm staying with a friend.'

'Of course,' Sephiroth typed back, allowing himself only a moment of surprise at the thought of Cloud having more friends. He knew that, he reminded himself. Cloud was a normal person. And normal people had many friends. He was the exception. Not the rule.

'I'm sorry,' Cloud replied. 'I need a little more time.'

'I understand.' Sephiroth sighed slowly. He did understand. But he needed to reassure. Cloud was not Zack. He would accept the reassurance. Hopefully. 'I am glad to know you are looking after yourself. Please take all the time you need.'

A moment's pause this time—shorter by far than before.

'Thanks for understanding,' Cloud wrote, and Sephiroth wished he could percieve his intonation through those typed words, but he thought he was genuinely grateful. 'I'll be home in the morning. I know we don't have a lot of time.'

'Don't rush,' Sephiroth wrote back. 'I'll do my best. You look after yourself.'

'I love you.'

Sephiroth stared at the words on his phone, his brows twisted, his chest tightening in a way that implied the same, though he was, as always, unsure. Too unsure to write it. But he could not let it go unanswered either.

'Rest well,' he typed, instead of responding to the affection. 'I will see you tomorrow.'

'See you then,' Cloud replied, tacking the same small heart that Sephiroth had sent him onto the end.

Sephiroth let that stand, and gently set his phone down on the pillow beside his, where Cloud's head should have rested.

Sephiroth sat on his bed in his empty room in his dark apartment, wide awake and silent. Two rooms over, he could hear Zack breathing. He knew that Zack was awake as well, both of them unsleeping—unspeaking.

His mind wandered to the time when Zack was missing. When Cloud worried himself sick. When Sephiroth spent every moment waiting. Waiting for the worst. Waiting for news. Waiting for anything. He'd thought of so many things he wanted to say during that time. So many things he wanted to tell Zack that he had never found the moment to say.

What he would have given a week ago to know that Zack was only two rooms away. What he would have paid to have the chance to say a single word to him.

Now Zack was home, and safe, and so close, and Sephiroth had no words at all.

They were out of time, and he knew it. The next day, Zack would leave. He would leave Cloud and Sephiroth stuck apart from him, afraid and powerless. He would leave Aerith's flowers, wilted and untouched. He would leave, and a gaping chasm would open up behind him, like the one that had yawned open beneath Sephiroth's feet after Genesis and Angeal had been killed—The one that he'd only started to attempt to cross on the sturdy scaffold of his friend's support.

He would not fall. Not with Cloud on his side. But if Zack left them behind, he did not know if he would have the strength or skill to bridge that gap as well. Or if Cloud would, given what Zack had done.

He glanced again to his phone—a poor substitute for Cloud, but his only connection to him at that moment. It was dark and silent, still holding so many conversations between them, invisible but present in his memory and the machine both. He knew that if he texted, Cloud would answer—That it was entirely possible that Cloud was having a sleepless night as well. But he might also be gaining some much-needed rest, and he did not dare disrupt that. Not with how exhausted and strained Cloud had been.

Sephiroth was on his own. There were no orders coming from above to tell him the right course of action, and no Zack by his side to guide him through the ways of humanity. He could not lean on Cloud for this. What happened in the morning was up to him.

He glanced at the magazine he'd taken home from medical. At the open page with his lost friend's faces smiling out—confident, healthy, vibrant. He looked down at his hands, feeling that tight panic in his chest.

He'd tried to be the person that Angeal and Genesis wanted him to be. He'd tried to be the confident opponent Genesis seemed to enjoy, and the stoic, withdrawn presence that Angeal had seemed to respect. He had lost them both. Now he was trying to be the quiet and supportive person that Zack seemed to need, and he was losing him too.

The only person still on his side, it seemed, was Cloud. Cloud, who'd seen him dying on a mountainside and had stubbornly bulldozed his way into saving him—who'd watched him panic with Hestia and instead of turning his back had taken it upon himself to help him—who'd stayed by him even when he was grumpy and sick—who had taken one look at him on the third day after Zack's disappearance and had drawn him into a hug so close that Sephiroth felt like it was all that was keeping him together.

Cloud was staying, even though Sephiroth did not hide from him. So perhaps hiding and silencing himself was not always the right answer. Being kind—being patient—letting Zack hide… Those paths had not helped. So in the morning, he promised himself, no more hiding. He would be as plain as he cared to be, and as open as he could. And he could only hope that Zack would hear him through his pain.

Sephiroth sat, silent and unmoving, watching the small analogue clock on his night stand mark the passing of seconds. He listened to Zack, and knew that he was being listened to in return. He did not speak, despite holding Zack's attention. This was not the moment.

He kept his breathing slow and even. His only motion aside from his breathing was the slow steady slide of one finger tracing back and forth over the bedsheets. It was all that was keeping him grounded as he watched the seconds creep into lonely minutes.

An hour passed, and Sephiroth did not allow himself to feel despair over how many were left to go in the night. He had weathered longer waits—had suffered deeper tortures. Abruptly, through the rhythm of slow, intentionally steady breaths from Zack's room, Sephiroth heard his friend shift.

Zack's bedsheets rustled as he moved. Sephiroth kept his breathing in rhythm, kept his finger smoothing back and forth. He heard the quiet, almost warm sound of Zack's bare feet touching the floor—hesitant and delicate. Sephiroth could hear the way Zack's breath shuddered at the touch, but he did not understand it.

He realized as he listened to the subtle tapestry of sound Zack wove—shifting where he sat in the bed, his feet trailing smooth motions across the floor—that his friend thought he was asleep. Sudden tension filled him, his heartbeat spiking traitorously. But he managed to keep breathing smoothly. Memories of feigning sleep to appease an angry professor hovered at the back of his mind, threatening to send him into a panic of memory. And on top of that weighed a guilt as deep as his bones. Here he was, lying to Zack again, this time through silence and stillness.

But he could not bring himself to move—to reveal that Zack's brief sense of security had been misplaced. He kept up the rhythmic, forcibly-paced breathing, and the slow back and forth of his finger over the sheets. Just in case the subtle sound of his fingertip on cotton was adding to the illusion.

He expected to hear more movement from Zack's room. To hear the floorboards let out quiet complaints as the First started up a set of rhythmic squats on legs that were far weaker than they had once been. Instead Zack stayed in place, the soft brush of his feet over the floor and the way it shifted his weight the only sounds escaping the guest room.

Eventually, after a long time of bare feet on wood, a new sound began—hesitant and quiet and simultaneously sharp and wet. One that made Sephiroth's stomach clench when he finally deciphered it.

Alone in his bedroom, Sephiroth clenched his eyes shut, keeping up the masquerade of even breathing, and tried not to listen too closely to the sound of Zack biting at the still-healing flesh around his regrowing fingernails. Internally, he re-write his opinion. He could think of no torture worse than sitting silent in place while listening to Zack bite his fingers bloody. He had no choice but to hear the soft hitches of Zack's breath and the sounds of pain he restrained deep in his throat.

When Sephiroth opened his eyes again, it was to stare fixedly at the clock, and will the time to move faster. He could not risk damaging Zack's trust further by interfering. All he could do was wait for the morning, and a final chance to reach him.

The hours passed slowly. The chewing sound stopped eventually, but Sephiroth didn't dare hope Zack was asleep. He could hear the man moving now and then, sometimes twitching as though startled by something, sometimes whispering quiet, incomprehensible words to himself.

In the end, Sephiroth only forced himself to sit on the bed for six hours, rather than the eight he'd intended. Six, he thought, was reasonable. It was believable. He took care to slide the sheets over the bed slowly, simulating pulling them back, before standing. Only then did he allow himself to curl forward and put his head in his hands, letting out a slow sigh of breath that was shaking more than it should have been. He hoped Zack mistook it for something else. There was no doubting that he was still awake.

It was over, he told himself. The torture of the silent stillness of night was over. He could only hope that it wouldn't be followed by new torments. By Zack leaving still fragile and damaged and broken. By him failing once again to help a friend who was in need.

"Pull it together." He whispered to himself, quiet as a breath. Zack didn't need him falling apart. Sephiroth himself might need the support of his friends, but they were not here to offer it. And the ones who were here needed him whole—functional. He could not burden them with his inability to cope. Not Cloud, fighting to be there for Zack, and certainly not Zack himself.

He stood slowly, stifling a grimace at the tightness in his legs from sitting still as stone all night. He ought to stretch, he told himself. But at the same time, he almost savored the soreness. At least physical pain and discomfort was something he understood.

He dressed with his knees aching, and ignored the twingeing in his lower back. Eventually the mako in his system would even out the soreness. He set it aside in favor of moving stiffly out of his room and going to the overworked coffee machine in the kitchen.

He'd planned the morning down to a detail. Coffee, pancakes from scratch, fresh whipped cream. The smell would be enticing, and the indulgence it represented was likely to draw Zack from his seclusion in something of a softened mood.

But first he let himself stand in front of the coffee maker, somehow still finding it hard to move—hard to break free of the moment as he gazed without focusing at the drip of the brewing liquid into the pot. He felt like if he just held still, nothing would change. Nothing would get worse or harder. From here, what could it get but harder—More complicated?

Cloud and Zack… He could already barely keep up with them before it all went to hell. And even then he hurt them often with his inattention and lack of understanding. Maybe he really just wasn't human enough to care for other people. Like Hojo had told him so many times before.

If he just stayed still—if he just stayed silent and didn't move—he couldn't destroy anything else.

Hestia wandered into his field of vision, yawning a wide mouse yawn before pressing against his flattened fingers. At her urging, he curled his knuckles, allowing her to burrow under his hand, propping her head on his thumb, cocooning herself in the warmth of his hand. And he allowed himself a small smile at the sight of her.

Well. Perhaps he didn't destroy _everything_ he touched. If nothing else, at least he had saved one tiny life.

"I need to cook, little one." He whispered, tilting his hand so he could nuzzle his finger against her head without dislodging her. "Don't fall asleep there."

Hestia did what she was best at, and ignored him. She nuzzled her small fuzzy chin against the base joint of his thumb, her tiny paws tucking up beneath her headrest, effectively pinning him in place.

Sephiroth sighed and reached up to the cupboard, one handed, to pull down a coffee mug for himself. Apparently he would be taking his first cup without any added sugar or cream until Hestia decided to release him. He didn't have the strength of will to dislodge the little creature when it was so easy to hold still and let her be happy.

And anyway, it was still five in the morning. Too early for a normal person to be cooking by far, and certainly too early for Zack to 'wake up.' He still had a little while. Just a little while more.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Eventually Hestia got bored of snuggling, and Sephiroth was able to go about starting breakfast. He was surprised to find it easier to do now. He cast his mouse a suspicious glance where she was engaged in a breakfast of her own. Just which of them was helping who, he wondered with a wry half-smile on his lips.

He hadn't quite gotten the pancakes into the skillet yet when the sound of a door opening broke through the still apartment.

"Good morning." He called, glancing towards the kitchen door. "Pancakes will be ready soon."

"Trying to butter me up?" Zack peeked his head in the door, eyes burning but not in amusement as his wide smile might imply. He ducked out again without waiting for a reply, heading towards the bathroom.

"Maybe a little," Sephiroth murmured to himself as he poured the first batter to sizzle on the hot pan.

The faucet in the bathroom turned on, and Sephiroth heard the splash of hands being vigorously washed. The sharp smell of iron snuck in to join with the scent of his cooking. Sephiroth clenched his jaw to keep from grimacing at the smell. Rehydrated blood, he thought grimly. Zack was no doubt washing it off his fingertips after chewing them all night. He schooled his expression—Quieted his stressed heartbeat with a slow breath. He had to be ready to talk about this as he'd promised himself the night before. He had to be ready to face Zack.

He heard Zack splash water on his face, and flipped the pancake with a neat flick of his wrist. The bathroom sink was turned off. His reprieve was nearly over. It was nearly time. Breakfast first, he promised himself. Zack hadn't eaten the night before, and he was still recovering from the starvation that had been inflicted on him. Enhanced and healing though he was, he needed fuel. Even the best-oiled machine could not work without some energy source.

He tried not to think about how little he'd managed to eat and sleep recently with the strain of current events. He'd run on empty before. He was built to have a reserve.

"Sleep well?" He asked as Zack padded into the room.

He did not study his friend openly, but took in his appearance out of the corner of his eye. Zack's hair was mussed and his feet were still bare, but he was already dressed otherwise. Even in the climate-controlled apartment, he was tugging on a jacket over his uniform top, hiding his arms, his shoulders, his wrists. Sephiroth did not doubt that he would wear gloves too if it was an option.

"Sure," Zack said coldly, wandering over with a forced sort of relaxation in his stride. "Aside from waking up to a psycho cooking at six in the morning."

Sephiroth blinked at him. Was it already six? He did not let himself glance at the clock. He'd lost more time in front of the coffee machine than he'd thought.

"Apologies." He stated, sliding the first pancake onto a plate and offering it to Zack. "I do not sleep so soundly with Cloud away."

It was the truth. And a carefully calculated one. He watched Zack's hand twitch. Watched bright blue eyes flick to the side before returning to meet his gaze in silent challenge.

"He'll be back later this morning." Sephiroth informed, still waiting for Zack to take the plate from him.

"Lucky you." Zack cooed, an ugly, condescending smile crossing his lips.

Sephiroth withstood the expression, recognizing it as the attack it was, and recognizing the morning itself for the battle it was becoming. He waited for it to end without trying to play into the game or scold Zack for his behavior. He was tired of this. He was very, very tired.

"I'm not hungry." Zack informed him, his eyes still burning into Sephiroth's. A sharp strike.

"They will keep until you are." Sephiroth replied. A graceless dodge. It cried for a response. "There's coffee ready. I'll start stacking these on the table." Stick to facts, he urged himself. Don't play. Don't run. Stay with facts.

"Suit yourself," Zack snorted. "I'm sure your pet will enjoy them. You must have missed him in bed last night."

"Do not speak of Cloud like that." Sephiroth said, flat and firm. "You know very well he is no one's pet."

"Someone pissed in your cereal this morning." Zack yawned, moving over to the coffee pot despite his clear anger. "What happened? Find someone taking notes on you?"

Sephiroth froze with the pancake halfway to the table, his mind supplying vivid memories. A pen scratching on paper, glasses flashing, softly sighed complaints of blood stains, pain that made his eyes too hazy to read what the man was writing.

He clenched his teeth and placed down the plate before he broke it. This was not the time for such thoughts and memories.

"I had an unpleasant meeting yesterday." He said instead of replying to the obvious jab.

"Woe is you." Zack muttered, pouring coffee into a mug for himself.

"You were the subject." Sephiroth said, straightening and turning to face Zack fully for the first time that morning. He saw the other Soldier's tension and took a half-step back to lean against the wall, crossing his arms. He was serious, and did not want to take away from that. But neither did he want to risk being perceived as a threat.

"Goody." Zack said, turning slowly to Sephiroth, his mug of coffee in his hands, his re-growing fingernails raw and reddened as he tapped a finger against the ceramic. "More secrets."

"Heidegger wants you back in the field yesterday." Sephiroth met Zack's eyes as he spoke, tried to hold them, tried to communicate the gravity of this. That he was trying to help. "I attempted to encourage him that was inadvisable."

"Of course you did." Zack scowled, shifting his grip on his mug and his barefooted stance on the floor. "You think I'm damaged goods."

"You haven't even been debriefed yet." Sephiroth said, firmly. "And you are obviously still mentally injured by what occurred."

"Debrief me, then." Zack laughed, bitterly, before taking a slow sip of his coffee.

"Unwise with you like this." Sephiroth replied, too short and sharp, he knew, but it was impossible not to escalate. He was made to end conflict—In a very final way—not to defuse it.

"Like this?" Zack grinned, his teeth seeming more a threat than a smile. "This how? What part of 'this' is it that makes you hesitate?"

"Zack," Sephiroth held his temper together, taking a slow breath. Trying to be calm. To approach this gently. "You hurt Cloud. And you won't even talk about Aerith."

Zack's coffee mug shattered on the floor. Sephiroth went still and silent, eyes on the briefly-frozen form of his best friend. Zack stared at the broken mug a moment, lips parted, eyes wide and vulnerable. His fingers twitched. Then Zack's shock at his reaction morphed into open, smiling anger.

"Wanna write that in your notebook?" Zack spat through a chuckle. "Broken mug, very important."

Sephiroth did not respond. He watched with ill-concealed unease as Zack erected mental walls of angry humor against his own pain. The grin on Zack's face turned almost desperate as the silence stretched. Zack whirled in a swift motion to the counter. He grabbed Sephiroth's still-steaming mug of coffee and threw it full force at Sephiroth's face.

Sephiroth ducked out of the way, wondering even as he did if maybe he should have held position and taken the hit. Despite the neat dodge, he felt shards of the ceramic mug and hot coffee pepper his hair and cheek.

"How about that one?" Zack laughed, eyes too wide, hands shaking. "Wanna write that part in?"

"I'm not going to take notes on you." Sephiroth said softly, forcing himself to stay calm. Not to just grab the man and hold him down till he stopped fighting. This was Zachary. He was not an enemy, he reminded himself. Even if he was hurting him, he was still not an enemy.

"You didn't seem to have any problem before." Zack snapped back. "Tell me, how's my jaundice going?"

"We were at a loss." Sephiroth crouched slowly, retrieving the larger shattered pieces of his mug from the puddle on the floor. "And you weren't awake to tell us."

"Maybe I didn't want you to know." Zack snapped. "But that's just impossible, huh? Everyone wants the Great Sephiroth in their business."

"Zack—"

"And now you've got me stuck here, in your little hero fantasy," Zack laughed, sharply. "With your touchy-feely boyfriend, and your cold-reality bullshit, like you're expecting this to turn out like some sitcom. You've even gotten your fucking mouse in on the action!"

Sephiroth lifted his head to see Zack's stressed gaze fixed on Hestia, where she sat perched and interested, her whiskers and nose twitching as she scented out what all the crashing had been about. And that was when he knew exactly how sick Zack was. Because the First raised his hand, poised to slap Hestia away. Like another teacup.

Sephiroth lunged, snatching Zack's hand halfway through the strike, close enough that Hestia squeaked her alarm and darted away in a flicker of white.

For a moment they froze, Sephiroth's hand bruisingly tight on Zack's wrist. Then he lifted his eyes to meet Zack's tense glare. He knew he looked shocked, his mouth parted, his eyes wide. He'd expected resistance. He'd expected trouble. But this was Zack. Zack, who went out of his way to cheer up children who were crying. Zack, who wanted nothing more than to be a hero to everyone he met. Except that, it seemed, he was not that person right now.

He met Zack's eyes with his own shocked gaze, and found Zack looking almost as surprised. His blue eyes were fixed on Sephiroth's hand around his wrist. Fixated there, his lips parted vulnerably for the first time since Sephiroth had seen him awake. And for a moment—for a split moment, he saw tears welling in those horrified eyes. Then Zack's gaze snapped back to Sephiroth, and the walls slammed down. He gave a small burst of laughter, and pulled his hand away.

"Relax," He chuckled at Sephiroth. "I'm not going to hurt either of your pets. You know, the mouse or Cloud."

"Stop it." Sephiroth said softly, even as Zack jerked away from him. "You need to stop this, Zack."

"You're the one keeping me here," Zack sing-songed, turning away from the kitchen and its broken teacups. "Mr. Stickler for the rules."

"This isn't a joke." Sephiroth followed, done playing. Done with games. Zack was dying in there. He'd seen it in that moment. This wasn't getting better. "It's not funny. You are hurt, and you cannot keep—"

"Oh, I know you think I'm hurt!" Zack laughed, snatching up the notebook that still rested on the coffee table in the middle of the living room, ripping it open harshly. "Which page do you want me to read off? Here's one about locations of rope burn!"

He grinned at Sephiroth, sharp and awful, and ripped out the page, tossing it away.

"Zack, we were trying to—"

"How about a list of the fifteen best recipies to help someone recover from starving?" Zack laughed, waggling the notebook between them before ripping that away as well, crumpling the paper in his hand and letting it drop. "Or the list of—" he had to stop, barking out a desperate, strained grin. "Of words Reno used to describe finding me. Oh, that's a good one, that's RICH, Sephiroth."

"Enough." Sephiroth snapped, stepping forward and yanking the notebook out of Zack's hands. Papers tore, and fluttered away, even as Sephiroth turned and threw the notebook across the room.

"Oh, there's the Sephiroth I know." Zack's laugh was colored with something else now. It sounded like fear.

"You have every right to be angry at us," Sephiroth said, forcing his voice down, backing away from anger. "But this is not right, Zack. You're correct that I know you're hurt. And I know that this is my fault."

"Right, Mr. Lists here, has to write everything down," Zack teased, snyde and cruel.

"No," Sephiroth shook his head. "I mean that you are under my command, and I let you go into danger without even knowing. I'm not sorry for the notebook, but I am sorry, Zack. I am sorry, because you went through something terrible, and I was not there to help you."

"Is that what you think?" Zack's eyes narrowed, even as his smile grew. "That I was some damsel in distress? It was just a little Torture, Seph," He grated the word Torture between his lips, like it tasted too heavy, like it was full of nails. "What's a little torture between friends? You still invited me to this little slumber party, after all. You even invited your precious Cloud, and we all know how you covet him."

"Zack." Sephiroth said softly. "Enough. Stop trying to hide."

"Oh, is that an order, sir?" Zack laughed.

"No, Zack." He took a shallow breath, swallowed hard. Tried to be honest. "As a friend. I'm begging you."

"Begging me?" Zack's smile slipped, then regrouped, wider than before, teeth showing.

"Yes, Zack," Sephiroth whispered, catching his friend's eyes. "Please. Just stop."

Sephiroth could only watch as Zack smiled wider—too wide—till the smile became something else. Till bared teeth were not a grin anymore, but an agonized grimace. Till his eyes crinkled too tight, squeezed shut, his hand raising to cover his mouth with the back of his hand.

He laughed. Choked, rough, angry sounds, and Sephiroth watched, and waited, and did not escape the room as he wanted to. He let Zack sink to the floor, and did not try to stop him. He let the tears spring hot on his friend's face as he dropped to his knees. He let the aggressive laugher slide into helpless moans. He did not turn away.

"I kept waiting," Zack finally choked through his tears, a smile still straining at his lips, fighting against his misery, trying desperately to reconstruct the mask.

Sephiroth only nodded, understanding. Yes. Zack had fought, and Zack had lost and so Zack had waited. And he had not arrived.

"I kept…" Zack trailed off, the strained grin peeking briefly over the hand that covered his mouth, looking like if it stretched an inch further it would shatter him to pieces. "And now I can't…"

The words were nearly a hysterical laugh, but they fell short, cut off blankly. Sephiroth knew there was something he was supposed to do. Something he was supposed to say. Apologize? Empathize? Support? Deflect? What was the right answer? To help Zack escape this misery for a moment longer? To urge him through it?

Sephiroth discarded all the options. This was what Zack felt. He would watch, and accept, and he would try to understand. Only Zack didn't say more. He leaned back against the foot of the sofa. Then he slowly slid down, till he was collapsed on the floor, his face covered, muffled sounds escaping from behind his hands, even as his legs curled inward and his body coiled on itself, defensive and hurt.

For a moment, the muffled sounds of his misery were the only sound in the empty apartment. Then Sephiroth moved forward, because he did not know the right thing to say, but he did know that Zack should not be alone—should not feel alone. Not now.

He wedged himself in next to the coffee table, sitting slowly at Zack's side. But sitting close was not enough, and he was not even sure if Zack was enough himself to know his proximity. So Sephiroth reached out a hand, as he had not done before with Zack—not for a long time—and settled it carefully in the wild hair at the base of his neck.

He could feel how hard he was shaking. Could feel the pulse racing beneath his skin. He could smell his fear, lingering still, even after all this time. Soldiers are not meant to feel helpless. But protecting was something Sephiroth could do for him too, even if the ones he would protect his friend from were long dead.

Sephiroth curved awkwardly over him, cramped in the small space, fighting to keep his motions careful—to do this on Zack's terms. He curled over Zack, pressing his other hand to the crown of his head and sliding it slowly till he could brace his forearm above Zack's hair, leaving him cramped and bent but close. He hovered above his shaking, crying friend, and made sure that he felt covered. There was nothing to guard from, but Sephiroth stayed in place, inches from Zack, their heads nearly touching. Even when the younger Soldier moaned behind his hands, reaching out and clawing one fist in Sephiroth's shirt and hair, messily accepting and demanding more from him at once. Sephiroth followed, bending that much closer, letting Zack cling, letting his cheek press into sweat-drenched hair.

His left hand was still settled in the short hairs at Zack's neck, and he stroked his thumb through them slowly, until he realized that he was shaking too. Perhaps, he thought, it was the cramped position. But that was not true. Not even true enough for him to lie it to himself.

"I don't know what to do," Zack confessed between one strained, sobbing breath and the next. Sephiroth could not tell if it was laughter or terror coloring his words.

"I'm sorry," He said, because he didn't know what to do next either. He had no answers to give.

The hand in his shirt tightened, dragging him down, silent demand. More. Closer. Sephiroth let Zack dictate, following till Zack had dragged him down to practically lie on top of him, their chests only separated by Zack's desperate, clinging hands.

"I'm trying," Zack laughed, his tears hot where they touched Sephiroth's collarbone, where he'd turned his face upwards into Sephiroth instead of down into the carpet now.

Sephiroth could not answer. He was stroking Zack's hair, shaking minutely, trying to process. Trying to understand.

"Sephiroth?" Zack had wanted an answer, it seemed. A reassurance Sephiroth's mouth was dry, but he tried to answer.

"I just…" His voice faded out. It sounded so soft. Was that really him? Zack's fingers clenched, his body tightened, prepared for pain. Sephiroth did not want to hurt him. He tried again, Tried for what Cloud had encouraged. 'Don't lie to him.'

"I am just so glad you're alive."

It was the truth. He could tell because it ripped out of him from his very core. Tore free like a piece of shrapnel being pulled from his stomach. The relief, the guilt of the relief, the sorrow at how that relief had come… It all twined together in a single, stark sentence, and it was the closest Sephiroth could come to saying what he meant to say, but perhaps his body could say what he could not. He wrapped his arms around Zack in return, and cramped though they were squeezed together on the floor, he held him as tightly as he could.

Cloud came home at last to find them still tangled there, locked around each other. Zack's tears had dried long ago, but he had not let go, so neither had Sephiroth. For a moment, Sephiroth tensed, waiting to see how Cloud would react. He knew how exhausted his partner was, and how much he had wanted for this moment with Zack to come. Would he be upset? Angry at being excluded from the break? Still sullen and weary from days of stress? Still wounded by Zack's betrayal?

But of course, Cloud was all the things that Sephiroth could not be. And as always, he found the right line to walk, and the perfect place to fit into the equation. A place where Sephiroth could never have fit, or even seen the opportunity to. In this case, literally.

"Oh good," Cloud sighed warmly. "Stay there."

Zack sniffled against Sephiroth's shoulder, humming in quiet question, even as Sephiroth shot Cloud a vaguely confused look from where he'd buried his face in Zack's hair. That was before Cloud daintily picked his way over the coffee table and their messily splayed legs to plop down in Sephiroth's rather awkwardly positioned lap and add himself to their tangle by wrapping an arm around them both. Sephiroth grunted at the sudden addition.

"There," Cloud proclaimed, crammed in beside them both.

Zack shifted, caught a breath against Sephiroth's shirt, and then let out a soft, breathy giggle. Sephiroth blinked, catching a breath of his own as the sound struck true. Zack pulled his head away from Sephiroth's chest, grinning brightly with tears still brimming in his reddened eyes. He wiped at the tears on his cheeks with one hand, the other still tangled in Sephiroth's shirt.

"Spike," He giggled, appearing delighted by Cloud's appearance. "What the heck, man."

"What the heck yourself," Cloud complained, taking Zack's uncurling as a symbol that he could press closer still, sliding his shins out of Sephiroth's lap to slip them under Zack's back. He snuggled his face in until he could press his cheek to Zack's wet one, smacking a kiss there.

Zack's giggling turned into a low, true chuckle. It didn't trail into sobs this time, but it was still too heavy, full of a burden of emotion. New tears spilled from his eyes. Sephiroth only shifted his grip so he could loop one arm around Cloud, anchoring him in their pile on the floor.

It was a long time before any of them spoke again.

"I'm sorry," Zack whispered. "I've been awful."

"Don't worry about it," Cloud urged. "You're dealing with a lot."

"That's no excuse." Zack seemed to droop against them. "Especially not for hurting you. It's like…" Sephiroth felt Zack's jaw clench where it rested against his shoulder. "I can tell I'm saying the wrong thing, that I'm being too mean, that I'm… Not being myself. But I just can't stop…"

"Easy," Sephiroth whispered. "Neither of us are angry with you, Zack."

"I'm mad at me." Zack muttered, a hit of his acid bitterness surfacing.

Sephiroth didn't know what to say with that. but Cloud was there now, and he pressed a little closer to Zack and squeezed him.

"Thanks for apologizing," Cloud said softly. "I'm sorry too. For taking notes on you. We were really afraid."

"Honestly," Zack whispered, wiping tears off his eyes before they could fall and leaning back against Sephiroth. "It's kind of sweet. I just… Needed something to be angry about? I don't know."

"You don't have to explain," Sephiroth said softly. "We're the ones in the wrong there."

"Hmm…" Zack was still and stiff a moment more, then curled slowly into their mirrored embraces.

"Do you think…" He started, hesitantly. "Do you think we could try these three nights over again?"

"What?" Cloud asked softly, touching his hand to Zack's chest gently.

"These three nights. With you two. Can we try again? I'm not" He took a shallow breath, let it out again. "I'm not ready to go home yet."

Sephiroth looked to Cloud, their eyes meeting briefly, warmly, and he gave a small smile and an even smaller nod.

"Yes please." Cloud said softly. "Stay."

Zack sagged, the tense muscles in his back loosening in a boneless slump against them both. "Seph?" he whispered, seeking confirmation—reassurance.

"I was going to ask you to," Sephiroth leaned his cheek against Zack's scalp again in comfort. "Even before this."

"I owe you both," Zack wrapped an arm around Cloud, properly, holding onto him as well Sephiroth. "Apologies if nothing else… And Hestia, shit, I…"

"She's fine." Sephiroth soothed, gently. "You can make it up to her with bribery."

"Not to change the subject, but you both look wrecked," Cloud said softly, stroking the backs of his fingers over Zack's tear-stained cheek. "Did either of you sleep last night?"

"I'm… Afraid not." Sephiroth muttered, voice low. He felt Zack's eyes fix on him, and glanced away, his mouth working in embarrassment.

"Shit." Zack muttered a vicious smile twitching over his face before Cloud's fingers touched the corner of the smile in his gentle petting. Then the false expression crumbled under the touch, leaving Zack looking tired and strained.

"Apologies." Sephiroth whispered. "I did not know what to do. I needed to think. And… I appear to have still made a troublesome choice, despite the thought put into it."

"No, you were—have been," Zack's mouth worked, looking for the words. "Really amazingly patient."

"I would gladly give you much more than patience if I knew how to help." Sephiroth sighed, his eyes drooping where he was pillowed in Zack's hair, exhausted by the relief of talking to his friend again.

"You two need sleep." Cloud proclaimed, firmly, smacking a short, soft kiss to Zack's forehead before rising away from their huddle. "The circles under your eyes are growing circles, Zack."

"Yeah," Zack sighed. "And Sephiroth is about ten seconds from napping on my head, so I'm assuming he'd have dark circles if he could."

"Come to bed." Cloud stretched his hands down.

Zack accepted them easily after a moment, wincing as he was pulled to his feet. He stretched out and glanced at the clock in confusion.

"I keep losing time," He muttered, softly. "Could'a sworn we weren't down there that long."

"Seph?" Cloud asked, reaching his hands down to him.

"Give me a moment." Sephiroth sighed, pushing himself up with the sofa instead of Cloud's hands. His legs were complaining after a second set of long hours cramped and unmoving. The feeling of pins and needles in his toes was uncomfortably nostalgic.

"Hey," Zack muttered after a moment, pausing where he stood. "I know you guys… Set the guest room up for me and all. And I'm really grateful, but," He trailed off again. A smile was twitching at the corner of his lips, like any moment he'd decide to wave all this off as a cruel joke and isolate himself again.

"Come join us," Cloud offered. "We're not exactly going to be doing anything exciting in bed. Right Seph?"

Sephiroth felt hazy. He watched their interplay without fully understanding the ways their eyes met and their faces changed. Didn't understand how Cloud had gotten that from the implications. But he nodded nonetheless in agreement. Zack nearby where he could guard him was exactly what he wanted.

"I might still have nightmares," Zack warned, uncertainly. There was something in his words that seemed to Sephiroth like it was a test.

"Good thing we'll be nearby then, huh?" Cloud moved a little closer to Zack, bumping him with one shoulder.

Zack shifted at the touch, his shoulders tensing almost aggressively. Then he rolled his shoulders to force himself into relaxing. Sephiroth watched his fingers uncurl from fists at his sides before he threw an arm around Cloud's shoulders, giving him a brief squeeze in return.

"Gunna protect me from the big bad dreams, Spike?" He asked, though it was with a faint fond note rather than bitter angry laughter.

"Naturally," Cloud wrapped an arm around Zack and squeezed him in return. "And I'm sure Sephiroth will back us up."

Zack turned to look at him, still half-hugging Cloud. Sephiroth didn't miss that he was holding on too tightly—that the arm around Cloud's shoulders was not easy and companionable, but clinging tightly, restraining only enough to keep from harm. It made his chest ache, and he lifted a hand to rub out the tension over his heart.

"Seph," Zack said, then shook his head a little in negation of his own speech. "Sephiroth, I'm sorry about your pancakes… But can we…?"

"Let's rest," Sephiroth agreed with a nod. "Pancakes can wait. However…" He hesitated, weighing the look that Zack was giving him. "Perhaps almonds for Hestia first?"

"I meant to ask. What happened with Hestia?" Cloud asked, glancing between them.

"I… came pretty close to hurting her." Zack muttered, his eyes fixed on Sephiroth through the halting admission. "Seems I'm hurting a lot of folks these days." His fingers tightened a touch more on Cloud's shoulder.

"Nothing that won't heal up," Cloud said, sending Zack a warm smile that drew his confusing focus off Sephiroth. "For Hestia too. She forgave how she met us, after all."

"You two never did tell me that story," Zack sighed, even as he moved towards the kitchen.

"You don't want to know." Sephiroth muttered, walking behind the two of them, watching how easily Cloud changed his stride to match up with Zack's. The two of them worked well together, even here.

Zack froze in the doorway to the kitchen, and Sephiroth heard a half-crazed chuckle bubble in his throat a moment. Cloud squeezed him tightly and firmly till the noise eased with a ragged draw of breath.

Sephiroth peered over their shoulders at the mess of ceramic and coffee staining the wall and floor.

"They're only mugs." he said, as kindly as he could urge his voice to go. He refused to let his hands pick at the shards he could picture still clinging to his hair. They might not even exist, he insisted to himself, and the last thing Zack needed was to be reminded further.

"Top shelf," Cloud prompted after Zack stayed frozen a moment longer. "You shouldn't have any trouble reaching them, you behemoth."

Zack shot him a brief grin, then looked almost anxiously to Sephiroth.

"You can clean up after we sleep." Sephiroth said blandly, arching an eyebrow. "I might even help."

Zack watched him a moment more, then fell into a softer, gentler smile than any Sephiroth had seen on him since he came home.

"Might take you up on that." He murmured, stepping slowly into the room.

Sephiroth kept a close eye on his bare feet, and didn't even notice he was holding his breath till he let out a sigh of relief as he watched Zack carefully avoid the ceramic shards on the floor.

"Where do you think she is?" Zack asked, scanning the kitchen before flicking and uncertain gaze to Sephiroth.

"Watching." Sephiroth replied, standing uncertain in the doorway. "She is wary. And will remain so. Be still and calm, and offer her treats, and she will come."

"Heh." Zack gave a small smile that twisted into something truer after a moment. "No problem. That's how I got close to you too."

"They really are remarkably similar." Cloud agreed with a chuckle, casting Sephiroth a fond look. His eyes were swimming with tears, but his smile didn't look fake. Sephiroth gave a half shrug of silent agreement.

Zack pulled down the almonds only barely having to stand on his toes to do so. Sephiroth fixedly kept his eyes off of the skin bared by the motion. Zack did not want them to see his scars, and he had made that clear in how he'd hidden himself. He wasn't about to disrespect his wishes now, when things were finally better.

Zack hunkered down in a crouch by Hestia's home, the almond held gently between his fingers and his hand resting beside the little bars that were more to keep Hestia's toys and bedding in her home than the mouse herself. He kept his eyes on the floor, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

"I owe you a lot more than almonds, Spike." He said, his voice colored with shame.

Cloud moved over to him easily and dropped a hand on Zack's unstyled hair, ruffling it in a clear imitation of Zack's own behavior towards Cloud's hair. Sephiroth smiled to see the grin it brought to Zack's face.

They did not speak again, but Cloud stayed close by Zack, even as the First stayed crouched and still, waiting. Sephiroth watched them, thinking on the shadows in the apartment behind him, but only rarely allowing himself to glance back. He was not guarding, he insisted to himself. There was nothing to guard against. But his mind thought of the angry looks he saw in the eyes of troopers sometimes when they looked at Soldiers, and of Heidegger's frustration, and he was not sure he believed his own reasoning completely.

Once during the wait, Sephiroth offered to let it go for now. For Zack to leave the treat and come back the next day, but Zack only shook his head silently, the corner of his mouth tightening a little in a way that was neither smile nor frown. Cloud had squeezed his shoulder, and Sephiroth had not offered again.

Hestia took her time. But twenty minutes of stillness, it seemed, was enough to satisfy her nerves on the subject of Zack Fair. A small pink paw reached out and plucked the almond from between his fingers, and a flash of beady mako-blue eyes peeked out at him. For a moment she was still, frozen in place. Then her empty paw snuck between the bars and lighted on Zack's fingertip. It was only for an instant—easily taken for a mistake or a search for a missed speck of almond. She vanished quickly into her nest with her gift, making soft pleased noises to herself.

Zack looked to Sephiroth for translation, and Sephiroth gave him a shadow of a smile.

"Forgiven, I think." He said in a low voice. "She did the same to me once."

"Weird." Zack commented, but with no anger in his voice. He rubbed a hand over his eyes as he straightened, his motions stiff. "I could really go for that nap now."

They moved in a careful clump together towards Sephiroth's bedroom. The closer they got, the more Zack seemed to droop, as though his protective masks were falling away bit by bit. He hunched, sliding his hands into the pockets of his sleep pants. Cloud rested a hand on his stooped back. Sephiroth stayed a pace behind them, a block between his friends and the empty tension of the apartment itself.

"How are you doing?" Cloud asked, as he ushered Zack into the room.

"I dunno." Zack whispered, and he did not expand on it further.

Since he hadn't bothered getting dressed out of sleep clothes, Zack crawled into bed first. He looked too small and too worn for their bouncy friend. Sephiroth stripped out of his shirt, but didn't bother further than that. His pants were comfortable enough, and he did not want to be too forward.

He wandered closer, wondering how to go about this. He'd shared space with other Soldiers before, but never in the luxury of a bed. Zack saved him from having to think about it by dragging him onto the plush surface and stealing one of his arms for a pillow.

"This way you have to stay still and rest while I do," Zack explained, even as he snuggled his head into Sephiroth's bicep. "Relax your arm, would you?"

"It is relaxed." Sephrioth replied.

"Holy shit." Zack muttered, lifting a hand to squeeze the muscle there.

"I know, right?" Cloud chuckled warmly, tossing the covers over the two of them. "You two sleep. I'll join you later if I need to, but unlike some people I used the night to get some rest."

"Oh," Zack murmured, his hand curling on the bedsheets. "But…"

Cloud observed him only a moment before sliding into bed. He sat at Zack's other side, his back against the headboard and one hand patting Zack's scalp.

"There. Better?" He asked, even as Sephiroth curled his hand, still pinned under Zack's head, to stroke his thigh.

"Much better," Zack murmured, his voice already sounding more distant. "Just… Book it if I have nightmares, okay? They might be the fightin' sort."

He was trying to joke, but it fell a little flat. Sephiroth wrapped his free arm around him and squeezed. It was a pale imitation of Zack's hugs, but an attempt at comfort none the less.

"We'll be fine," Cloud murmured. "Sephiroth's got you, okay? And I'll be right here."

"Right." Zack whispered. "Right."

The fact that he fell asleep without staying up late giggling was at once a relief and a great worry. Sephiroth had shared rooms with Zack at night before. The only other time there had been silence between them was the awful, haunted night at the Golden Saucer.

"Sephiroth?" Cloud asked in a whisper after a long time. "Are you okay?"

Sephiroth looked up to him, his brows twisted a little, and tried for a reassuring smile. Cloud reached over with his other hand to pet his cheek and stroke his fingertips over his brow.

"He'll be okay," Cloud whispered. "Rest, okay? You need to sleep."

Sephiroth turned his face into Cloud's touches, and kissed his hand softly. Then he lifted his free hand—The other was thoroughly in use as Zack's pillow, and he didn't want to move it. He touched the place he'd seen Cloud's arm bleeding, and cast him a worried glance.

"It's healed," Cloud soothed, stroking Sephiroth's face. "We'll talk later. Sleep, Sephiroth. I worry about you."

Well. Sephiroth couldn't argue with that logic. He tilted his face into Zack's hair. The smells of his captivity and torture were fading. Nearly gone now, save for the faint hint of medical that clung to him. With his scent so clear, and so close, Sephiroth found sleep came easier to him. Zack was safe. And they were going to keep him that way.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

"Well," Zack said, his voice serious and strong. "I suppose you're all wondering why I've called you here today."

Sephiroth looked up in confusion with a bite of pancake halfway to his mouth. Across the table, Cloud choked on sip of coffee with laughter and coughed roughly, covering his mouth with a hand.

Zack beamed at their reactions with a look of pride, even as one of his scarred fingertips tapped anxiously at the table. His color was better, his eyes clearer and his smiles truer. Sephiroth found himself wanting to hug him tightly, but he attributed that to his lingering drowsiness.

It was not often he woke up with his two closest friends snoring softly and drooling on him. He felt he needed a shower, but that was not on his list of priorities yet. There were pancakes to be eaten.

And apparently meetings to be had.

"We are having breakfast," Sephiroth said in a slow, careful voice, inspecting the reality of his words even as he spoke them.

He instantly felt rather foolish when Cloud laughed again. He was getting tired of feeling foolish… But Zack's laugh was delighted and sweet as Cloud's was, without mockery. If it gave them joy, he'd set aside pride a while longer...

"Clearly," Zack agreed, still smiling. The circles under his eyes were lighter, Sephiroth noted. And his grin looked less painful. "And it's pretty good, gotta hand that to ya."

Sephiroth inclined his head in acceptance of the praise as apology and put two more pancakes from the central plate onto Zack's. The First hadn't slowed down eating them yet.

"I take it there's more to this meeting than that?" Cloud propped his chin in his palm, tilting his head at Zack.

Sephiroth noticed Zack's eyes flicker down to Cloud's arm, and nodded his approval again as Zack silently checked the place where he'd hurt the blonde. Another positive. Another improvement. Did he dare let his guard down?

"Clearly, Soldier Strife!" Zack said, lifting a finger before spooning more of Sephiroth's fresh-made whipped cream onto his pancakes. "It's been brought to my attention that I am, how to say this gently…"

Zack paused a moment, stealing a bit of whipped cream on a finger, then wincing as he licked it off, glancing at his damaged fingernails.

"All shades of fucked up," He concluded after a moment.

"Zack," Sephiroth objected, frowning.

"Sephiroth," Zack mimicked, giving him a distinct _look_. "We had a whole conversation this morning about whether to clean up the broken mug shards or eat breakfast first this morning because I spent last night and the day before wreaking havoc on your dishes."

Sephiroth was silent a moment, considering, then he shrugged mildly.

"I have been intending to purchase new amenities."

"Sure you have," Zack shook his head a little, but his smile was soft and fond. "Can I get on with my meeting now?"

Sephiroth didn't like the way Zack described himself. He glanced at Cloud in worry, and received a little nod of reassurance.

"Very well," Sephiroth said after a moment. "Proceed, Soldier Fair."

Zack brightened a little as Sephiroth played into his game, and straightened a touch in his chair.

"I have just this morning received a text from a certain Turk," He said, "which I may or may not have exclaimed loudly about in your vicinity."

Sephiroth thought the echoes of 'Gods damn it Tseng!' Might still be echoing somewhere in Shinra, but he only nodded sagely along with Cloud.

"That would be because I have an ultimatum." Zack's grin flickered and died before reviving, strained again, and accompanied by twisted brows. "Debriefing in two days. No exceptions."

"Shit," Cloud breathed, reaching over to clasp a hand gently on Zack's forearm. Sephiroth watched the minute twitch of Zack's fingers, and then his strained grin melted into a calmer smile as he looked to Cloud.

"Yeah," He muttered. "That's what I thought too. I also thought that I _really_ don't want to break any Turk faces. I hear they rescued me, after all?"

He intoned the words like a question, glancing to Sephiroth. Sephiroth nodded quietly, old guilt rising in his chest. He quieted it silently, letting out a puff of breath.

"Well," Zack said quietly. "I thought… Maybe you two would be up to helping me get ready."

Cloud squeezed Zack's forearm with a steady pressure. Sephiroth envied him the control and certainty. He wasn't sure Zack would welcome his touch as well, so he held back. He wouldn't even have known where to put his hand.

"Anything you need." He said. That much he could offer with certainty. He wrapped his hands around his coffee cup to keep them from feeling empty.

"I haven't actually asked you for anything yet," Zack muttered with a small smile. "I've already been-"

"Put through the ringer and out the other side?" Cloud offered.

"A big burden on both of you," Zack countered, leveling a significant glance at Cloud. "And don't bother denying it, Spike."

Another one Sephiroth knew the answer to. So he provided it.

"We are glad you are alive." He said with decisiveness in every word. It had worked last night, after all. "And will help if we can."

Zack glanced at him in affection and lightly kicked Sephiroth's foot under the table. Sephiroth assumed it was a sign of affection, and nudged him with his big toe in return. Cloud yawned and smiled at them both.

"So," He said wearily. "What can we do?"

"You might have noticed I'm a little prickly," Zack said after another slow mouthful of pancakes.

Sephiroth lifted an eyebrow and opened his mouth, but bit back sarcasm when Cloud gave him a less-affectionate kick under the table. He frowned at his lover in confusion, but sighed and conceded the point.

"You went through a lot," Cloud agreed instead, sliding his hand off Zack's forearm at last to take another couple bites of his own breakfast. "And we know you don't want to tell us everything."

"I don't." Zack agreed after a moment. "To be honest, I don't want to think about it. It makes me feel…"

He trailed off, but the shift in his posture was enough. The tension in his shoulders. The clench of his jaw. The way his hand twitched towards his face, as if he wanted to bite at his fingers again. He bared his teeth in a grin that was not happy. Somehow it made him look thinner, and pale as ashes.

"We'll go with 'awful.'" He said eventually.

"We won't pry," Sephiroth promised, his brows furrowed in worry. "We should not have pried as much as we-"

"No, I really don't mind that." Zack shook his head, turning his hand to face Sephiroth to stem his flow of words. "Like you and Cloud both said. You were worried. I get that. I just don't want…"

He gestured helplessly, glancing between them. Cloud caught on first and shook his head, leaning towards Zack even though the table separated them.

"If you don't want it, that's all we need to know," He murmured. "What can we do to help?"

"Just help me unload a few of these bombs in my head," Zack whispered, his strength and humor wearing thin already. "I don't want to lose it on Tseng, or Reno, or Rude or any of them. I know you two aren't fond of them but-"

"They're growing on me," Sephiroth commented with a shrug.

"Yeah, they're not so bad," Cloud agreed with a nod.

"What, really?"

"They brought you home," Sephiroth murmured with a shrug. "I will never stop being grateful for that."

"Reno seemed really worried," Cloud remembered with a fond look on his face. "And Rude had blood on his hands. They'd killed all the people who hurt you, and taken as good care of you as they could… I'd say that earns them some pretty big props with the Soldier program."

"I'll never hear the end of it, I bet," Zack tilted his chin down with a half-smile. "They've got a sick sense of humor… But I don't want to hurt them. And based on how I've acted to my best friends…"

"It's a concern," Sephiroth nodded his agreement. "Despite their skill and training."

"Yeah," Zack rubbed a hand through his hair, looking as embarrassed and pleased as he was anxious. "Got it in one, Seph. As usual."

"Do you have to work?" Cloud asked, glancing anxiously to Sephiroth.

Sephiroth checked his PHS and tried not to wince. Heidegger was not pleased in the delay their cuddle session and following exhausted sleep had caused. At 8pm he had not yet finished his missions or paperwork for the day. The evening pancakes were enjoyable though.

"Yes," He rumbled regretfully. "I have three missions. I should be attending to them right now."

He saw the flash of worried mako-bright eyes from two directions pin on him, and quickly slid his phone into his pocket.

"They will be no trouble," He assured them. "Merely time consuming. I am hesitant to leave."

"Because you might come home to another disaster?" Zack suggested.

"Because my friend is feeling better, and I have missed him," Sephiroth corrected in a mutter, picking up his dishes and moving to the sink. "But needs must. Will you two talk or-"

"No." Zack shook his head. "No. I'll wait 'till you're home."

Cloud shot him a worried glance, and Zack returned it with a soft, worried smile.

"I lost my shit on you the other day, buddy," He whispered softly. "Let's wait till we're at our most stable."

Sephiroth considered that, then nodded his approval. Triangles were considered the strongest of shapes in construction work. And their three points aligned strongly, if not equally. Sephiroth spent a moment wondering at the impossible geometry of it. Of being so close to Cloud, and always wanting more. To hold him, to kiss him, to touch him, to be with him. Of feeling so connected to Zack, and the bonds of their history and friendship and struggles and support. Impossibly different, but no further or closer than each other to him.

He shook off the image with a small shake of his head, dismissing the impossible triangle in his mind.

"I will finish swiftly." He assured them both. "And return to your sides. When I do so, shall I bring anything?"

"Potato chips." Zack said at once. "And ice cream."

"And tissues." Cloud added. "I'm a crybaby when it comes to you two."

Zack flashed Cloud a grin, and reached over to tousle his hair. Sephiroth felt suddenly, strangely far away from them. He started to wonder if, perhaps, the reason he could not figure out the triangle's shape is that it was less to do with how close they both were to him, and more with how close they were to each other.

Jealousy was the last thing he wanted. He shoved the thoughts aside firmly and nodded his agreement and understanding instead. His hand itched for Masamune again. What he was made for, whether Cloud liked to hear it or not.

"I will return when I can." He promised. He escaped the room to get dressed and paused at the sight of the magazine he'd thoughtlessly left on his dresser. It wasn't so bad, he thought. To be a little too far on the outside. It was better by far than being alone.

He almost forgot to kiss Cloud on his way out, but he remembered in time to salvage the moment neatly. Cloud sighed against his lips, clearly tired, but smiling and soft again. Some of the strain and fear was gone from him. Zack cleared his throat as Sephiroth was leaving, and Sephiroth paused, looking to him.

"No kiss?" Zack asked, pouting for a moment before a cheeky grin crossed his features.

"I will not hesitate to sic my mouse on you, Fair." Sephiroth said dryly. But he ruffled Zack's drooping hair in a fond shadow of Zack's enthusiastic noogies. "But I will grant you leniency for now. Because I am so happy to see you."

"Brimming with delight," Zack teased up at him, ducking under his touch, but smiling.

Sephiroth assumed it was a reference to his blank expression, and summoned a small smile for Zack and Cloud both before he escaped the apartment once more. But this time, despite his uneasy emotions, he let out a breath of relief, and smiled just a little to himself as he walked away. Their Zack was coming back. No exhaustion in the world could soften that joy.

And neither could any lingering doubts. The only difference between three separate points and a triangle were their connections, he told himself, quietly. He had to trust in the bonds he'd built with his friends. Much though they'd been tested in the past few days.

He left the building eagerly and fought the night away. Power pulsed under his skin. Every strike precise and easy. Every report crisply made. Every motion practiced and smooth.

It gave him no peace. He stepped through the motions as he had a thousand times before. He succeeded. He won. He lived. He felt nothing. He realized only after the Shinra clerk shied away from him at his return that there was a cold, satisfied smile on his face. He didn't let it bother him, turning and heading for the showers on the Soldier training floor. He was not sweaty, but it would take him a year or two more of practice to stay completely clean of blood.

He would not go back to his home smelling of iron and death. Not with the company he kept at the moment.

He stared at his phone a moment as he returned. Three missed calls from Hojo in the past few days. He felt a pang of something in his chest. Not quite sorrow. Stress, perhaps. Something like longing, maybe. He hated the labs. Hated the pain and heaviness they carried. Hated Hojo's sneering mockery and cool detachment.

But he understood all of those things. Could hate them freely. Could survive them neatly. Could succeed, and succeed, and succeed, past all of Hojo's expectations. Could surprise him over and over again into that cold, awful laugh that Sephiroth hated and craved.

It would be so good, he thought. To live up to someone's expectations.

Selfish, he scolded himself internally, setting his phone aside with his clothes to scrub clean. Let Hojo rant and rail. Let him disrupt board meetings over Sephiroth's absence. He was busy. He was leading a program, and protecting his friends. Hojo had been the sole owner of his time for long enough. What was he going to do, Sephiroth though with a little twitch of a smile. Hurt him? Annoy him? Break him? Threaten his friends?

Cloud was no longer helpless or weak, to be taken hostage. He was a Soldier, and a good one at that. The company would not overlook his absence or pain as they might have in the past. And Zack had never truly been in danger. From Heidegger most recently, perhaps. But not from Hojo. If anything, Sephiroth though they had an oddly playful relationship. Hojo had no reason to dislike Zack, and Zack was happy enough to play along with his strange monster tests.

It made Sephiroth more than anxious. But it was part of why he'd kept Hojo's work a secret from Zack even more so than Cloud. They both knew he had a tumultuous relationship with the science department. But the extent. The depth. The pain…

Sephiroth had no intent of sharing that.

He scrubbed his hair silken and smooth, and washed every trace of blood off his skin with methodical, practiced sweeps. Zack was doing better, he reminded himself often. He was healing at last. He had smiled and meant it.

So why, Sephiroth thought, do I still feel like this?

Too long without being himself, perhaps. Too much work. Too little time in Cloud's calming presence. He missed his lover. Missed their peaceful evenings and easy-going chats. Missed being at ease with him.

But there were worse things than waiting a little longer for that. Far, far worse. He closed his eyes, and remembered the bitter, angry, dead-eyed creature that had briefly seemed to wear Zack's skin. Something inside him stirred in recognition, and he locked it away. He knew more of torture and pain than he was willing to let either Cloud or Zack know. He would not divulge that much. Would not tell them where his killing smile came from, or how intensely Sephiroth understood pain and hopelessness.

He hoped that Zack could learn the same thing he had. That freedom, and friendship, and joy though they could not necessarily erase the pain, could balance it in time.

But then, how long had it been since he felt balanced? He knew he should talk to the others about it. But how much could he ask of his friends before he was a burden? Now was certainly not the time, with Zack suffering.

For a moment, the shower felt too cold. There was fire beneath his skin, and he was so tired of extinguishing it, day after day. Of holding it in check for the sake of the people around him. He was so tired of burning inside to protect everyone else from the fire.

'It will be okay,' Cloud's voice whispered through his mind, a memory of so many conversations.

"It's too much," Sephiroth whispered aloud in return, his voice falling flat with the sound of falling water.

Nothing answered him. In time, he turned the water off, and towelled try, and tried to connect himself to reality.

Zack needed him. And it was Sephiroth's fault that he was hurt. He would not let him down. Would not fail him now when Zack had finally turned to him and Cloud for help.

He bought five flavors of chips, and five more of ice cream. And then he went home to his apartment, and took a slow breath. For a moment, he felt two futures stretch in front of himself. One where he shook off the foolishness of this endeavor and walked away. He could train. Hone his skill. Next time he fought, if he worked hard, he might come through it without a single drop of blood to wash from his flesh.

He could be perfect. The perfect killer he'd always been meant to be.

It was a choice, he recognized. But there was only one path he could tread. And he had chosen it the moment he first touched his lips to Cloud's.

He would never be perfect at being human. He opened the door to his apartment to try anyhow. This time, when he stepped inside, he was greeted with smiles from his companions, and calls of welcome. It did not escape his notice that the lilies were in the center of the coffee table, and the torn pages of their notebook had been picked up.

He let out a slow breath, closing the door behind himself on the future he was leaving behind.

"I'm home."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

"That's disgusting." Sephiroth proclaimed, sitting across the coffee table from Zack.

Zack glanced up at him, looked back down at his mountain of ice cream. He crumbled another handful of potato chips on top with a wicked, smug look.

Sephiroth twitched and looked away. An annoyed scowl twitched to life on his lips, even as Zack snickered across the table from him.

"Is he making gross food again, love?" Cloud called from the kitchen.

"In my own home," Sephiroth sighed.

"It's good," Zack objected. "Sweet and salty. Like you and Cloud!"

"Are you calling me salty?"

"No no," Cloud strode back into the room with his own bowl of ice cream and dropping down to sit beside Sephiroth. "That is _already_ more than enough of _that_ conversation you two."

"Aw, but Spike." Zack whined.

"You'll banter all night if I let you." Cloud murmured. "And you wanted to talk, Zack. We can postpone if you want, but…"

Zack's joy faded. Sephiroth felt his heart clench at the somber, stressed look that took over his happy blue eyes. It almost made him resent Cloud bringing it up. But it was so late that it was early now, and they had agreed, after all.

"No." Zack said. "I don't want to postpone."

"Okay," Cloud said, putting his spoon in his ice cream. He paused, staring at Zack's ice cream bowl, then lifted his eyes to his friend with a frown.

"Barbecue flavored, Zack?" He asked. "Really?"

Zack's little smile returned. He snickered before taking a bite of his disgusting comfort food. Sephiroth twitched.

"It's not bad," Zack insisted, with a smug look.

Sephiroth hadn't been in the mood for ice cream. He sat with a mug of tea—his second favorite mug, since the first had been broken—and waited. The mug was warm between his palms. He rolled his shoulders, gazing down at the steaming water instead of watching. Cloud laughed despite himself, only just managing to swallow his ice cream first.

Maybe, Sephiroth thought, he should have stayed out for one more mission…

He realized a moment later that things had gone quiet. He glanced up to find the other two watching him, with twin sets of worried expressions.

"Maybe we _should_ wait," Zack said. "You just got home and all."

"They were simple right? The missions?" Cloud reached out, sliding his fingers between Sephiroth's left hand and his mug.

Sephiroth released the tea to let Cloud hold him. He frowned, looking between Cloud and Zack, then shook his head. His hair swayed behind him, still heavy and damp from his shower.

"There was nothing to be concerned with." He squeezed Cloud's hand and looked up to Zack. "I am simply… Uncertain. How to proceed."

Zack held his eyes a moment, then gave a slow nod. He offered them both a small smile, fiddling with his spoon. Sephiroth internally scolded himself for spoiling their dessert and relaxation.

"Maybe you could start me off with what you know?" Zack offered after the silence stretched between them. "About the group. And anything you didn't put in the notebook. I kind of… Read everything in there."

"We don't know a lot," Cloud's expression was tense still. The hand he had on Sephiroth squeezed, and Sephiroth squeezed back. He'd have to keep a better eye on himself. He hadn't intended to worry them.

"We know that you were held hostage," Sephiroth said, watching Zack for signs of undue stress. Some stress was to be expected. "That it was a group of people protesting our actions in Wutai. And that they had some reason to wish to torture you."

"Oh, so you haven't seen their little indie-film yet." Zack said.

Cloud choked, and Sephiroth felt his blood turn to ice. Zack looked between them, and a little frown touched his face.

"You didn't know about the recording," He amended, slowly.

"They _filmed _you?" Cloud whispered, his eyes wide and his hand around Sephiroth's fingers suddenly very, very tight.

"Yeah," Zack agreed, a strained smile twitching at his lips. "Always wanted to be in the movies, y'know? Wasn't quite what I hoped it would be honestly."

"You don't need to joke," Sephiroth said, trying to hide the way his fingers had started to twitch. He was used to the red lights monitoring him. Zack should have been spared that. Should have been safe from that at any cost.

"I do," Zack said, shaking his head. "A little. It's still close. You know? I need…"

"Distance." Cloud provided after a moment, reaching out his other hand to rest on Zack's shoulder.

"Yeah." Zack let out a breath.

"Only what you're comfortable with sharing," Sephiroth reminded. He hesitated, but stretched his hand across the table, palm up.

Zack looked down at it only a moment before he reached out to take Sephiroth's hand in his own. He curled his fingers tight around Sephiroth's—his nails were a little longer. A little less chewed. Soon they'd cover his fingertips again. But it would take more time before the scarring around them faded. Sephiroth squeezed back, as careful as if he held and comforted a bird.

"We've got you." Cloud said. "When you're ready to stop, we'll stop."

"Okay," Zack nodded and let out a breath. "Okay. From the beginning then."

He lifted his free hand, took Cloud's, and gave it a brief squeeze. For a moment, the three of them were connected. Their own little triad. Then Zack released their hands to wrap his arms around himself. His ice cream sat abandoned before him. He took a slow breath, and Sephiroth did as well, steeling himself for what he would hear. He squeezed Cloud's hand, and felt his lover return in kind.

"I was easy to take." Zack began. "They knew who I was, and they knew how to get to me."

Sephiroth lowered his gaze to the tea before him, and let his mind piece together the tapestry of Zack's words, building a map of his abduction.

"I heard the crying first. It sounded like a kid. I was mid-mission, but you know how it goes. When you're hunting down a monster, following the crying often leads you to the right spot. I didn't have a lot of leads. You probably read the mission report."

"Suspected marlboro." Sephiroth quoted under his breath. "Search and destroy."

"Bingo," Zack chuckled. "So I figured, hell, maybe someone who'd been attacked, or someone who'd seen it, or some ruined little house in the boonies. Someone who needed help. And you know my hero complex."

"Zack." Sephiroth said. "Any of us would have gone."

"Gone, sure." Zack shrugged, shifting a little at the other side of the table.

Sephiroth fought the urge to bring him another pillow. He was still thin after his captivity, and sitting on the floor wasn't the most comfortable. But Zack had chosen the coffee table, so they had stayed. Sephiroth wondered if it was because that was where they had reconnected just a day ago.

"She was only about twelve." Zack said after another moment had passed. "She was sobbing, and all alone in a bombed-out village. Seemed like something big had charged through alright, but the damage didn't look new. It looked like it had been abandoned for a long time. Didn't match the mission at all. No signs of a marlboro at all, or of anyone else around.

"Warning bells should have gone off. I should have been careful, or at least cautious. Should have edged in there, or called it in. But no, I just waltzed on over. Asked her what was wrong. If she was hurt. If I could help her.

"I didn't even see the bomb until she'd already grabbed me. And then I hesitated. I couldn't help it. I hesitated, because I didn't know how to get her off me without killing her."

He curled up a little tighter at the table, his eyes haunted.

"Not that she survived it anyhow."

"Suicide bomber?" Cloud asked, his voice shaking a little.

"What kind of bomb?" Sephiroth lifted his eyes off his tea to watch Zack, in case his question strayed too close.

"Frag," Zack said with a shrug. "Pumped me full of shrapnel. Took me down hard. Mostly luck that it didn't blow my damn head off. It did hers."

Cloud twitched, but didn't otherwise show his distress. Sephiroth rubbed his thumb over the backs of Cloud's fingers in silent support. He'd have done the same to Zack, if the other man had shown any sign of reaching out for comfort.

Zack was curled into himself, his eyes calm but focused. Sephiroth didn't dare risk interrupting him lest he throw off the resolve he could see on his friend's face.

"I was still awake when people started showing up." Zack reached out to poke the spoon a little deeper into his melting ice cream. "I couldn't her them, or see them well. I thought they were going to kill me. They could have. I tried to fight back, but, well…"

"You'd just been blown up." Cloud supplied, his voice so steady it almost covered for the way his fingers shook.

"Yeah." Zack said with a half-shrug and a bitter smile, clearly uncomfortable with the defense. "Trust me, I'd noticed."

Cloud flinched a little and raised his free hand in apology. Zack waved him off, the twisted smile fading. He rubbed the hand he'd waved with over his face. Sephiroth thought he looked exhausted, and small. Sephiroth's fingers twitched once at the feeling of darkness at his back. Of shadows encroaching.

Paranoia, he told himself.

Maybe, he thought more softly.

"I passed out before too long," Zack continued after a moment of regaining himself. "I was so sorry to pass out. I was hoping I could at least get space. Could at least send a message. Tell you where I was, or… but they were all over me, and I couldn't move fast enough anymore."

Sephiroth's mind, unbidden, supplied him with the image of Zack. Torn, and bloodied, and running for his life. The horror of watching a child die still stark on his face. Of captors ambushing him, pressing him down, grinding his torn chest into the earth even as Zack's ears rang and bled from the force of the explosion.

"That trap was for you." Sephiroth said each word with care. "Specifically you."

"Yeah," Zack nodded. "Good thing I went alone. If I'd had a team, I'd have gotten them all killed there."

Not your fault, Sephiroth wanted to say. But Zack kept talking before he could be interrupted again.

"By the time I woke up, it was too late." He said with a shrug. "They had me properly trapped. I mean, they had put _thought_ into it. A lot of thought. It's not easy to keep a Soldier immobilized. But shove an inch-wide skewer through every joint, leave 'em tied and bleeding, brand the bottoms of their feet..." A low, unhappy chuckle escaped him. "You'd be amazed how far it gets you."

Sephiroth nodded in agreement. Cloud shifted, taking a deeper breath, then let it out slowly.

"Is that why you won't let us see your arms?" he asked. "The scars?"

"Not from that." Zack said. "Though the bottoms of my feet aren't too pretty right now, I tell you what."

Cloud jerked a little at the thought, and cleared his throat, clearly trying to stay calm and settled for Zack's sake. Sephiroth watched Zack's eyes flick to Cloud and soften.

"I'm sorry, Spike." He said. "No. It wasn't the skewers that gave me scars on my arm. It was me. But that was a lot later."

For a moment, they were all silent. Then Zack shifted, sitting up and forward. He reached across the table, his lips pulled into a small, strained smile.

"Don't cry, Spike," He murmured, his hand lifting to Cloud's cheek.

"Sorry," Cloud sucked in a shallow breath at Sephiroth's side, trying to control himself.

Sephiroth squeezed his hand without looking away from Zack. It was okay for Cloud to cry, so long as they stayed focused. So long as Zack got what he needed. His mind was whirring. What would he have done? He'd been trapped more than once. Had Hojo ever thought to immobilize him by piercing his joints? He hadn't needed to, he supposed. Sephiroth submitted to him. Every time.

But he could visualize it. Had taken enough damage to his joints over time to see how it could work. He'd wondered about the circular scars at Zack's elbows and wrists. He'd noted them in medical, when Zack was still unconcious. And he knew the scars Cloud spoke of that Zack kept hidden beneath long sleeves. They were awful, churning ridges and hollows of skin at the inside of his wrist, down his forearm.

"I'm good." Cloud said, removing his hand from Sephiroth's to catch Zack's fingers in his own. He drew Zack's hand down to squeeze it gently to his chest with both hands. "Sorry, man."

Zack shook his head, offering Cloud a supportive smile. When he sat back, he looked a little calmer somehow.

"You okay for me to keep going?" Zack sounded a little strained.

"Are you?" Cloud asked.

"Yeah. I'm good. You'll know if I'm not."

Cloud kept holding Zack's hand. Sephiroth folded his own in his lap. It didn't bother him to be excluded. He preferred Cloud paying his attention and affectionate squeezes to the man before them. And he'd have squeezed too tightly for certain if Zack had offered a hand to him.

"So they immobilized you." Cloud prompted a moment later, as Zack stared down at the table.

"Yeah," Zack murmured. "Had me blindfolded, face down, chained up. There was this thing… I don't know what it was exactly. Two bars, connected to each other on each end with screws. They'd gotten it tight around my neck, and chained me to the ground by it. I couldn't go anywhere. Not even crawling.

"I woke up starving, thirsty as shit, and I'll be honest, it wasn't comfortable. They hadn't bothered with any medical treatment, of course. Little pieces of shrapnel were still healing their ways out of me. And my body was trying to heal around the pins in my joints too. I still couldn't hear anything. I thought for a while I'd gone deaf in the explosion. Like, the permanent kind. But as I came around I realized they'd just put some noise-cancelling headphones on me."

"Sensory deprivation." Sephiroth supplied.

"Only ones I had left were touch, taste and smell." Zack agreed. "Though three out of five ain't too bad. 'Course, all they could access was dirt, blood, and more dirt, but it was the thought that counted."

"Why didn't they kill you?"

"Sephiroth!" Cloud objected, turning on him with a frown.

Sephiroth glanced over to his clearly upset face and gave a small shrug of apology and acceptance. Not a nice question. But a relevant one.

"I wondered too," Zack said, patting Cloud's hand. "They'd gone to a lot of trouble to keep me. Would have been a lot simpler for them to just end me there. And it wouldn't have been hard. They weren't exactly forthcoming at first, though. I don't know for sure how much time passed. I know that I'd almost managed to worm my way around to feel out the thing in my wrist when someone stepped on my back and yanked the blindfold off my head.

"And there was the camera, and some dude yelling about Shinra's downfall so loud I could hear him through the headphones. So I did what any good Soldier would have done."

"Which is?" Sephiroth asked, with a little smile twitching at his lips despite himself.

"I said 'hi mom' and grinned." Zack said with a smirk. "Just like I always do when someone points a camera in my face."

Cloud let out a little bark of laughter that was as much amazement as alarm. Sephiroth let out a breath, smiling even as he shook his head at his friend.

"I assume they didn't like that."

"Not so much," Zack agreed with a shrug and a bright grin.

Despite his playfulness, his free hand lifted to his lips. He nipped at the skin around his broken fingernails.

"Zack," Cloud murmured, his voice low and soft. "Zack. Easy."

He squeezed the hand he was holding, cupping it in both of his hands, wrapping Zack's wounded hand in his own calloused fingers.

"Easy."

Zack forced his hand back down after a moment with a slow breath, smoothing his thumb over the pinpricks of blood on his first finger.

"Thing is," Zack said after a long breath of silence. "Them hurting me wasn't so bad. I figured it out, you know? They were trying to use me for some propaganda bullshit. So it was an easy strategy. Keep laughing, keep smiling, keep taking it lightly. Ruin their takes. Stay alive while I waited for you."

Guilt struck like a dagger in Sephiroth's gut. He took the hit like he would have a literal one. Silently, without blinking.

"I think they'd been planning to have me finished off already," Zack murmured, his free hand tapping out an anxious pattern on the table again. "The dead kid, the bomb, the sensory deprivation, the hunger, the thirst… I get it. Most people, catatonic. Me, pretty damn upset. But they didn't really know what to do with me.

"They started with the classics. Prying off fingernails, vicious beatings, hair pulling. And I mean, they did pretty well. I hadn't thrown up in pain before, that was new. But I'd sure as hell barfed while laughing before. They got real frustrated. Dropped me in the dirt, shoved a gag in my mouth, stormed off to plan…"

Zack took a slow breath and let it out again. His teeth worried at his lower lip. He'd grown visibly more agitated. Sephiroth's tense sensation redoubled. He could hear their heartbeats in the room, and the way Zack's was speeding up made Sephiroth's adrenaline build. Which didn't help the feeling that there were shadows all around them, waiting to take them. He pressed his palms together in his lap, letting his muscles tense against each other.

"Like I said," He whispered. "The pain wasn't the worst part. It was being stuck there. I couldn't move. Like, I really couldn't move. I was spread eagle, in the middle of nowhere so far as I could tell, with a mouth full of blood, only my shredded uniform for shelter, and no way of knowing what was around me. I couldn't hear, or see. I was already starving, and gods I'd have murdered for water. My body was running on empty, and so was I."

His throat worked as he swallowed. Sephiroth could tell his mouth was dry. He pushed his tea over to him. Better not to interrupt the flow. But Zack needed to drink. Blue eyes flickered to him for a moment. Then Zack's stress collapsed into a soft smile as he took the tea in his free hand and drank it in a few long swallows. Like he'd drunk water after he finally woke up in medical.

"Thanks," He said as he set the mug down with a slow sigh. His eyes fell closed, and he was silent a while.

No wonder you can't sleep, Sephiroth thought to himself. Dark and quiet and still… Each one of them must be a horror.

"How are you doing?" Cloud rested his other hand on top of Zack's in support and comfort. "We can stop, if you want. You can stop any time."

Zack let out a breath, and for a moment Sephiroth thought he would accept. He viciously cut off the swell of hope he felt at the thought.

"I'm okay," Zack summoned a smile, more fragile than his usual, but softer too. "Are you, Spike?"

"Don't even _begin_ to worry about me." Cloud scolded, squeezing Zack's hand a little tighter. "We're here for you."

Sephiroth's fingers coiled into each other, and he rolled his shoulders back, fighting off the tension creeping into his posture.

"Take your time," Sephiroth said as Zack took a shaking breath. "This is in your control, Zack."

It took him a while, but Zack did speak again. Cloud kept holding onto his hand, an anchor and support. Sephiroth stayed still and silent, listening.

Zack told them how his captors had returned with a car battery and cold water. How they'd kept him from slipping into exhausted sleep with outright pain and suffering. How he'd laughed through it, past his gag. How he made a game out of talking at them, garbled and muffled by the cloth in his mouth. How sharp pain was his only answer in his deafened environment.

How eventually they'd taken off the sensory deprivation tools out of more desperation than anything. Zack guessed it had gone on for a few days by that point without Zack backing down from his game.

"Head honcho was pissed," Zack remembered, that same smile still playing at the corner of his mouth. "He crouched down where I could see him looming. Left the gag in while he blabbed at me. Preaching about war crimes, about 'wholesale slaughter,' about the sins of a heartless corporation. You know, the usual. He told me to cooperate, and they would consider letting me join, betray the company, live…"

Zack scoffed openly, shaking his head.

"I acted all conflicted till he took my gag out. Then I told him what I thought about cowards who would turn a desperate kid into a suicide bomber. Heard the cameraman start cursing behind me before I'd even come _close_ to finishing. It was a good scene setup, I'll admit. Trying to show me considering betraying Shinra after hearing their pitch."

"Cheap." Sephiroth offered when Zack's eyes flicked to him.

"Low production values, I admit," Zack agreed. "But it was a kind of fun challenge, compared to how boring just hurting was. You know? Playing fun loving to the camera while I could feel my body starting to fall apart around me."

Sephiroth's fingers twitched. _Stand up straight, boy. If they see you hurt, it will be a hell of a lot of paperwork for me. Understood? Keep it under wraps, smile when they say, pose like the president wants you, and I'll let you sleep when you're back. The unspoken threat hung in the air._

Sephiroth blinked out of the memory, swallowing once. Early in his war days, when he'd come back to Hojo torn to shreds by a summon he hadn't been prepared for. Right before a photoshoot for the president. He flexed his hands in his lap again to work through the urge to say yes, he knew. To tell Zack he understood that feeling. Of keeping up appearances at any cost.

"It got worse from there," Zack said with a sigh. "They wouldn't feed me. I got a drink of water a day, but they skipped two days after I bit one of them." He grinned in wolfish exhaustion.

"I'm going to get you more water." Cloud said firmly, standing without releasing Zack's hand.

"I'm alright, Spike." Zack's smile softened again. But he let Cloud's hands go to let him fetch water. It was the first time Sephiroth realized that Zack had been holding Cloud as much as vice-versa.

Sephiroth watched Zack's eyes fall closed, and his breathing even out as he waited. He felt he should have said something, but there was nothing to say. Nothing that wouldn't make it worse. That wouldn't turn the subject from Zack to himself—the last thing he wanted to do.

"You're holding together well." Sephiroth said as he heard Cloud pause a moment to take a breath in the other room.

"Yeah?" Zack's voice was tremulous, hovering between laughter and disquiet. Sephiroth kept his eyes lowered. "Guess it's a little funnier than I thought, honestly."

"Funnier?" Sephiroth tilted his head, eyes narrowing.

"You know. It sounds so ridiculous, saying it out loud. Oh, boo hoo, woe is me, they pinned me up like a pretzel and made me go ouch and I laughed at 'em. Not exactly—"

Sephiroth reached forward without thought to catch Zack's hand. Zack trailed off, his words dying on his lips.

"There is nothing entertaining in your pain." Sephiroth said, forcing his eyes up to meet Zack's, finding them shining with tears. "And no shame in your capture."

"Sure there is," Zack giggled. That sick giggle of before. Sephiroth tensed. "You can say 'any of us would have gone' all you'd like, but you'd never have waltzed into a trap like that, Sephiroth."

Sephiroth was silent a moment, weighing his options. Then he shook his head. "I would not have." He agreed.

"See?"

"And many children have certainly died thanks to my inaction." Sephiroth continued, his voice grim and serious. "As I walked away from their cries to continue my work."

"That's not—"

"Your heart is not a weakness." Sephiroth insisted, the words coming out sharper than he had intended them. "I consider it your greatest strength. That someone turned it on you does _not_ change that."

Zack drew back a little from Sephiroth's intensity, but it was a small, instinctual motion. His free hand lifted to hover over his chest, almost defensively. But the one under Sephiroth's hand curled around him, holding him in place.

"Hah." Zack said weakly, the smile trembling on his face like he'd nailed it in place and couldn't pry it off. "When you say it like that, I almost believe you…"

Silence fell between them as Cloud returned. Sephiroth released Zack's hand so he could take the water Cloud offered. He watched the careful exchange of the glass, and the way their eyes met. Cloud's calmer, Zack's less steady. When Cloud glanced to him, Sephiroth nodded towards Zack. He was gratified when Cloud settled between the two of them, at the other side of the coffee table instead of directly opposing either of them.

Zack drank with less desperation now, sipping at the water. His bloody fingertip had scabbed over, and would soon be whole once again. Save for the still-healing fingernail.

Angeal would know what to say. The thought hit Sephiroth abruptly, and painfully. He clenched his jaw and tried to silence his mind.

But it was true. Angeal would have known what to say to help Zack. Would have known how to help him feel safe again. Things came naturally to Angeal that Sephiroth had to study in books for months to begin to understand.

Zack could have used his steady presence—as bold and strong and as the trees he grew up among. Instead he had Sephiroth. As empty and cold as the labs where he was raised. Thank the gods for Cloud, Sephiroth thought to himself, glancing over at the younger man, stubborn as the mountains of his home.

"So you were saying it got worse." Cloud prompted.

"Yeah." Zack took another slow drink, then sighed. When he put the glass down, his right hand went automatically palm up on the table. Cloud wrapped his hand around it without prompting.

"The sleep deprivation got bad fast. And the not being able to move. I wasn't… I'm not really good at holding still. In general. Having to hold still, being forced to, it was awful. Every morning, they hosed me clean-ish, burned my feet again to keep the marks fresh… The first day they had me unblindfolded that was all. And then they started taking turns wearing me down."

Zack swallowed hard, and let out a slow breath.

"Some of them were more inventive than others," He said. "The first wasn't so bad. Some beatings, some lashings that killed the rest of my shirt, she stomped on my hands for awhile… You know. The usual Torture shit."

His free hand was drumming on the table. His smile was fixed and empty. Just as it must have been then, lying immobile in the dirt.

"Next guy was more creative. He brought out the construction tools they had on hand. Drove nails through my fingers, into my back. Made patterns. They started filming, so I started laughing. But it was hard to, while he was hammering steadily down into my bones… I could feel it all through me, you know? And my body was already so wrecked, it took a lot less effort for him to break my skin than it should have."

He shifted, his breathing coming a little faster, his heartbeat thundering under his chest.

"They still wouldn't let me sleep. They rigged some sort of pulse machine. Something to discharge the car battery into me every ten minutes or so. They hooked it up to the metal they had through my shoulders to keep me still and left me there.

"It rained that night, and I couldn't help gasping when the charge hit me. Convulsing too, you know, the whole nine yards… I almost drowned in a damn puddle. They started watching. Like a spectator sport. Then they turned a light on and I knew, I knew they were filming, so I smiled for their damn camera with dirt on my teeth and water in my lungs, and I laughed at their jokes about how pathetic I was…"

"Zack," Cloud slid a little closer so he could rest his hand on Zack's shoulder.

"It was fine," Zack laughed, a thread of desperation in his voice. "It was fine, only it was starting to get late. It had been a long time, you know? And I was starting to wonder what was taking you guys."

He giggled, strained and high, and Cloud broke from his place at the table's side to shuffle closer on his knees, wrapping Zack in a warm, careful hug. Sephiroth watched as Cloud held Zack close until the strained giggles had faded. Until the dark haired man was breathing more normally, and the false smile had bled off his lips.

He waited for you, Sephiroth thought venomously to himself. He waited for you, and you failed him. His fist clenched tighter in his lap. He refused to grind his teeth. Zack would hear. Zack could not know.

"I'm sorry," Zack said at last, wrapping one arm around Cloud's back and lifting the other to wipe tears off his cheeks with trembling fingers. "I'm not trying to blame you, just…"

"You don't have to protect us," Cloud lifted one hand to stroke through Zack's limp hair. "It's okay."

"I'd like to, though," Zack laughed weakly. "I know you were trying. I know you were looking."

"We found the village," Sephiroth said. "All rubble by the time we got there. Not even a fresh bloodstain. And we found a marlboro, though I doubt there was one before, since you hadn't been able to find it."

"Setup," Zack sighed. "Trying to convince the company I'd deserted?"

"That was my assumption," Sephiroth agreed, even as Cloud unwound from cradling Zack to sit close at his side. "And it was very close to working. On Heidegger at least. However, Tseng seemed to agree with me."

"That I wouldn't have abandoned?"

"That you wouldn't have left Aerith."

Zack twitched, and his jaw tightened. His eyes narrowed intensely on Sephiroth and a fierce grin crossed his face for a moment. For a fraction of a second, Sephiroth's body tensed at the perceived threat. Then Zack forced himself to relax, averting his gaze with a wry smile taking the place of the threatening grin.

"If I was gunna desert, I would have blown something up. You know, the usual."

Cloud looked to Sephiroth, something intense in his eyes. And Sephiroth didn't understand what he was trying to say with that look. He shook his head at his lover, silently negating that he knew what to say.

"We were kind of hoping you had gone AWOL," Cloud murmured when Sephiroth stayed silent. "Once it had been a week. We started hoping you'd just left. Because the alternatives were getting grim."

"I'd have told you guys if I was leaving." Zack said.

I would have thought Angeal would too, Sephiroth thought, but dared not speak aloud. Even Genesis…

"And it was pretty grim, I guess..." Zack continued with a sigh.

Cloud leaned against Zack's side, not moving away from him. He kept one arm anchored around Zack's shoulders, as if he could guard him from the metal spikes and the electricity that had so badly hurt him.

"I won't go into all the details." Zack murmured after a moment. "I don't think Tseng will care either. They beat me up, and it got worse. Every day it went on, I was that much weaker the next day. But I didn't tell them anything, and I didn't give them what they wanted. Every time that camera was on, I was smiling.

"But I couldn't last. I could already feel myself starting to lose focus. Lose time. So the first chance I got, I tried to escape. Only, not so easy with the immobilized limbs, you know?"

He lifted a hand, wiggling it at them before pulling down his sleeve to show the circular scar in the center of his wrist. It was a nearly inch diameter. Sephiroth's whole body tightened to watch Zack show it on purpose.

"They had me pinned through there," He said. "And they'd bent the metal on either side. So I couldn't just pull it through. And I didn't have another hand to work with, you know? I was getting desperate, and there weren't any good options. So the first time they left me alone, I shuffled a little closer and just…"

He pulled his sleeve down to display the churning, uneven scars.

"Started chewing. Like a Nibelwolf in a bear trap. I mentioned that my brain wasn't doing too great at that point, right?"

Cloud's eyes widened as he stared at Zack's arm with utter fixation. Sephiroth felt his stomach the hollow pit of anxiety in his stomach deepening.

"I wasn't trying to chew it _off_ or anything," Zack laughed awkwardly. "I wasn't that far gone. But, you know, there was nothing I could do to get the damn thing out of me. I needed one hand with some working fingers. And I figured, if I could get some of the meaty stuff out of the way, I might be able to worm it out… It'd heal back, I'd have one semi-functional hand to free the other…"

Sephiroth watched Cloud squeeze his eyes shut and hold Zack a little tighter around the shoulders.

"But there was a lot of blood," Zack laughed weakly. "Duh. Right? I mean, I should have seen that one coming. Chew through your arm, a lot of blood, seems like they'd go together, right?"

Cloud was biting his lip hard. Sephiroth watched the way his teeth pulled at his delicate skin as he fought back sickness and terror on Zack's behalf.

"They were furious when they found me," Zack said. "Face down in a pool of blood, half dead. Tied my arms behind my back, screamed at me for trying to 'ruin' their plans. I wasn't even faking when I laughed my ass off at them. Must have made a hell of a picture. Blood all over my face, my arm half-chewed to bits, laughing and laughing and laughing. It's the last thing I remember for a while, honestly…"

He let his arm drop, covering the churning scars with his sleeve once more.

"When I woke up again, it was back to it. Whatever footage they've gotten of me bleeding out on the ground, it hadn't been enough for them. But it had changed. There was no doubt I was going to die then. I was getting sicker and weaker every day. And a big part of that was my fault.

"My body couldn't heal everything. Couldn't replenish my blood supply fast enough in comparison to all the other work that needed doing. The ladies in Medical said I had shrapnel healed in my liver that was poisoning the hell out of me too. So from there, it was just about… How long I could live. And trying to spite them with every breath I had left."

"But you didn't give them what they wanted," Cloud said softly.

"I did eventually." Zack said. "I gave them anger, and defiance, and pain. Eventually I didn't have the strength to laugh it off anymore. I could have kept going till I died if it was just me but… But they… That is, I wanted to protect…"

His head twitched to the side. His lips twitched up into a dangerous smile. His fingers drummed, then twined together anxiously.

"Zack?" Cloud asked.

"Nothing." Zack snapped. "Nothing. That's it. That's all I want to talk about tonight."

Sephiroth watched him, feeling hollowed out. Gutted. His hands wouldn't stop shaking. He didn't know what it was to be nailed in his bones, but he'd been drilled into before. His bones were singing in the echoes of pains. He knew what it was to half-drown in blood. Knew how it felt to despair, to be helpless, to be weak, to be surrounded and poked and prodded and _hated_. They weren't done. They weren't done. It didn't end until it was all dug up, all laid bare, bones on a table.

"Why Aerith?" Sephiroth asked.

"I said I'm done, Sephiroth." Zack's lips curved upwards—dangerous, sharp.

"Why can't you talk about her?"

"Sephiroth!" Cloud did not approve.

Sephiroth made note of it. His heart hammered in his chest. Not done till the buzzer—till the red light blinks off. Not done till it's over. His mind hissed.

"I said I'm done!"

"The Turks will ask, you want to keep from hurting _them_ answer _me_. Why can't you talk about Aerith?"

"Don't!"

"Zack, buddy…" Cloud reached out.

"Tell me what happened with Aerith." Sephiroth ordered.

"Don't _talk_ about her!"

Zack's voice came out a roar, and he launched forward. The coffee table rocked, spilling melted ice cream and water. Sephiroth should have been more than prepared to get away from such a clumsy attack.

Instead, Zack's hands closed around his throat viciously. So tight. His throat closed, his blood rushed. Sephiroth found he couldn't bring himself to move. Couldn't move at all. Couldn't think, couldn't—

_The paralytic shouldn't be stronger than you, right? You're so powerful, after all. Move, boy. Move. You think you're strong enough without me? Then fight back now. You can't, can you? It will tear you to pieces. Beg me to stop it._

Sephiroth couldn't hear well. His body seemed frozen. A thousand miles away. He could feel the hands squeezing his neck. Could tell someone was screaming. But he couldn't lift his hands to stop it. Couldn't even focus his eyes on his attacker. He opened his mouth to beg, as he'd been asked. Years ago. Just now? But no sound escaped him.

Blood throbbed in his ears. Pressure built behind his eyes. No breath wheezed past the hands on his throat.

"Zack!"

The voice was firm. Commanding. Familiar. It cut through the fog.

"Let him go."

Hands over the ones on his throat. Not clenching, not clawing, gentle. Distantly, he could see another figure before him. Why was he so far away…

The new figure lifted its hands to his attacker's face.

"Look at me, Zack. Let him go. It's okay. Let him go."

Sephiroth felt darkness approaching. More swiftly than it should have. He reached for it. Longed for it. Some stillness, some quiet, before the pain of his failure. That familiar voice chanted beside him, almost a lullaby but for the fear making it tremble.

"Zack. Zack, let him go. He can't breathe, Zack. Look at me. He's not your enemy. Let him go. You can do this. Let him go."

Sephiroth let his eyes flutter shut. They weren't doing any good anyway. He couldn't process anything. Whatever the professor had given him, it was too much. Another lesson harshly learned. He accepted the pain, and let himself fall into the darkness that followed. Even as his heart ached at the fear in that strange, familiar voice.

"Zack, _please_."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

A deep feeling of unease came first. A heartbeat too fast, a soreness in his throat, a tension in his body. Something had gone wrong. He kept himself perfectly still. Did not stretch out the stiffness or sigh his discomfort. He did not move at all. It was always best not to move.

His hearing returned slowly, muffled by sleep. But once he was listening, he could hear the voices in the room.

"...Hasn't been doing well. It's not your fault. I promise, he's okay. He'll be okay."

"I," A shuddering gasp. "I hurt him, I…"

"He's alright. I just checked on him. He's fine, Zack. He's fine. You didn't do any damage."

"That doesn't mean I didn't hurt him!"

"Easy, Zack. Easy… Stop chewing, okay? You're hurting yourself. You know he doesn't want that. None of us want that. Try to breathe, alright?"

Cloud. And Zack. He smelled blood, but not much. Where was the threat? He held still. There were no hands on him. Would they return soon? Was Hojo here? He could have sworn…

No. No, no Hojo. Just his friends. His friends, and some tea, and ice cream, and Zack's agony. And memories, and memories, and pain, and…

Flashback. He'd had a flashback. He felt his body get stiffer from the realization. Hoped that they wouldn't notice. But the soft sounds from the apartment continued without change.

"It's alright. He'll be up in no time. I promise."

"I didn't… I didn't mean to."

"I know, Zack. I know that. Come here. It's going to be okay."

If he could have, Sephiroth would have torn himself to pieces while lying there. Zack had said he was afraid of 'losing it.' Afraid of attacking someone. That he'd wanted to practice somewhere safe. And Sephiroth had failed him. Failed to protect himself, even though it was clear that Zack's attack had been a panicked reaction, not actual anger.

"Why didn't he…?"

"I don't know."

"You're sure he's alright?"

Traitor, some dark part of Sephiroth whispered. Traitor, traitor, to lift a hand to us. Sephiroth silenced it quickly, forcing his thoughts away. Zack was his friend. His wounded, frightened friend. He should have been ready to protect him from himself.

"It's only been three minutes, Zack. Give him a little while to come around, okay? I promise he's alright. His neck healed in seconds, and he's breathing fine. You just can't hear because you're panicking."

Zack's afraid, Sephiroth scolded himself. Because of you.

He orchestrated a deep breath. Found that it choked him a little. That his throat was still a little sore despite Cloud's reassurances to Zack. He felt all attention fixate on him as his body forced him into coughing. He pushed up onto one elbow, frustrated and flustered by the physical response. So much for putting them at ease.

He didn't realize until he'd cleared the coughing fit away how strange it was not to have felt Cloud's hands upon him in comfort and concern.

"Seph," Zack whispered nearby, his voice shaking. "Sephiroth, I'm so sorry."

Sephiroth lifted his eyes, and found them both in the corner. Zack had pressed his back into it, crumbled to his knees, was sitting curled and hunched—making himself as small as he could. Cloud had wedged in close beside him, one arm around his shoulders, the other carefully holding down Zack's hands as they dripped blood onto the carpet, keeping them away from his anxious, damaging teeth.

Cloud's eyes lifted, and Sephiroth saw in them the fear—the worry—the confusion he'd brought on.

"You okay?" Cloud whispered, his voice suddenly small in comparison to how he'd addressed Zack moments before.

Sephiroth swallowed, and fought the urge to rub his throat. He could feel pieces of it still healing. Blood vessels cramped and compressed by the hold popping back into place.

"Just fine," He rumbled, and managed to sound reassuring, he thought. He looked to Zack, and felt his heart clenching again, that awful, strange…

"It's alright," He told Zack, slowly levering himself to his feet.

Cloud twitched at Zack's side, looking torn between going to Sephiroth and staying with the trembling, pale Zack.

"Take it slow," Cloud said rather than moving, though his worry and concern came through more than clearly.

Sephiroth stood a moment, alone. He felt too tall. Awkwardly large and strong compared to how small he felt inside. How small his friends seemed. He thought again of walking away. Then he lifted his hands carefully, palm out, towards the clearly frightened figure of his friend.

"May I come over?" He asked, softly. His head was pounding, and his throat was sore, but that didn't matter. He pushed through. He'd hurt and frightened Zack on a night he'd meant to make him feel safe. He needed to fix it. If he could.

Zack extended a bloody hand to him in command and answer. Sephiroth stepped forward slowly to take it. He lifted the offered hand from beneath, sinking slowly to kneel before Zack and Cloud. His eyes flicked to the bite marks. Not just anxious nipping and worrying. Zack had bitten off skin, left himself bloody. Sephiroth carefully covered the hand with his own while it healed.

"My apologies," He lifted his eyes to meet Zack's shaken gaze. His pupils were pin pricks. Constricted with fear and stress. "I did not intend to cause you harm."

"Me!?" Zack's shaken look morphed into a strained, wild grin. He choked out a crazed laugh, then fell back into a blank, horrified look. "I attacked you."

"Because I pushed you," Sephiroth sighed. "I should not have done that. And I should have defended myself from you. I just…"

I just what, he thought, desperately. Thought you needed to work it out of your system? Felt like a nap? Wanted to check on your grip strength? Forgot where and who I was, and thought I was back in the labs, paralyzed to prove a point? Had a flashback and craved the darkness of a near-death experience?

"Locked up." Sephiroth said at last. "I didn't want to hurt you."

He could feel Zack's blood on his palm. It made his hand itch. Made his skin itch. My fault, my fault, my fault.

"If you'd been Reno, you'd be dead." Zack whispered. "I can't do this. I can't—It broke me, I'm broken, there's nothing…"

"Zack," Cloud interrupted, sliding both hands carefully around Zack to enfold him in a brotherly hug. "You're not broken. You're not. Sephiroth pushed you too far. That's all."

Sephiroth felt Cloud's gaze on him, and looked up to those blue eyes that he loved so much. But instead of comfort and affection, he found frustration in that gaze. And anger too. He balked a little, swallowing hard again, even as he carefully held Zack's hand while the man breathed and tried to calm down.

Zack broke out laughing three more times as they held him there. Nervous, awful laughter that carried so much more weight than it had the day before.

"Genesis would have killed to get a death grip like that on you," He joked once. "I should be grateful."

"Shh," Cloud had whispered, rubbing his hand up and down Zack's arm.

"You should have seen your face," Zack laughed a moment later. "You looked so ridiculously resigned. I'm weak as shit, Seph, you could have gotten free with your pinkey."

"I know." Sephiroth said softly.

"I can't do this," Zack laughed again at last, and this time the laugh dragged off into a heavy, emotional breath. "I can't do this…"

Sephiroth shifted carefully forward, sitting at the other side of Zack from Cloud and wrapping a careful arm around his back. He rested his palm in the center of Zack's spine, facing the empty apartment with him.

"You did very well." He murmured softly. "You were able to face your torment and agony calmly and directly. It is to be expected you would hit a roadblock. I should have given you time."

"And I shouldn't have tried to kill you." Zack snapped.

"And Sephiroth should have defended himself." Cloud added, his voice patient, but firm. "And I should have realized a little quicker something was wrong. So now we've run through the whole list of what went wrong."

"I could have really hurt you." Zack whispered., his bright eyes looking to Sephiroth with a frightened look. "I killed one of them."

"Good." Sephiroth said, pressing just a little closer, awkwardly.

"Not in this context it's not!" Zack squeezed Sephiroth's hand tighter, scowling.

"I don't want to make this about me." Sephiroth said.

"You never do." Cloud's voice was barely a sigh, and the trace of bitterness it carried sent a chill down to Sephiroth's very soul.

"Cloud…"

"You didn't just lock up." Cloud snapped, his face still pillowed on Zack's shoulder. "You froze, and you went wide-eyed. You wouldn't respond to me, wouldn't snap out of it. Didn't even lift your hands, or… You didn't just 'lock up.' Sephiroth. We're not stupid."

Zack lifted a hand to carefully rest on the arm Cloud had around his front, rubbing his thumb over his elbow. But he didn't argue. Sephiroth clenched his jaw, watching his lover refuse to lift his eyes and look at him. Then he looked to Zack, partially for backup, partially for forgiveness.

"He's right," Zack said softly. "You know that already though."

His eyes were so sad. His expression even more so. Sephiroth felt cold, and heavy. He'd let them down. Let Cloud down…

"Please," Zack whispered. "Tell me what I did, Sephiroth…"

"It wasn't you." Sephiroth's own vehemence surprised him. Zackary, blaming himself… "It wasn't you. I… Occasionally I experience vivid and intrusive memories. Some of your stories struck a chord. I did not wish to derail your excellent progress and hard work. So I ignored them. I recognize I should have addressed their presence before I allowed them to overwhelm me."

"You had a flashback." Zack clarified, watching Sephiroth closely. "To where? To what?"

"Nothing." Sephiroth said. "Just a childhood fear."

"Childhood fears don't make you go ragdoll when someone's choking you to death." Zack squeezed Sephiroth's hand a little tighter. His grip was stronger, Sephiroth thought. That was a relief.

"Tell us." Zack urged. "If you tell me that, I'll… I'll tell you about A…" He paused. Floundered. Took a breath. "I'll tell you why I keep not being able to talk about A-Aerith."

Sephiroth watched him closely. Watched Cloud carefully peer up a bright blue eye at him.

"A secret for a secret?"

"Yeah. Between friends."

"Hm." Don't, his mind screamed. Don't, you'll get them killed.

He might understand now, though… Someone might finally…

He asked. He wants it. He needs to know. To understand what happened.

"Very well. Once you are calm, and your hands have been looked after. Once we clean up, and begin again. I will tell you what I… Remembered."

"Your neck too," Zack whispered, his eyes lifting guiltily to inspect Sephiroth's neck carefully.

"It's healed." Sephiroth murmured, though he let Zack lift his bloody hand to press against it carefully.

He held perfectly still while Zack slid his fingers over his throat. Part of him was afraid. Some foolish, shameful part. Maybe he really did want to kill you. Maybe he will this time. Maybe…

But no. He knew that was not true. Zack's shaking hand only checked the skin, then dropped back into his lap. Cloud squeezed Zack a little tighter at the helplessness of the gesture.

"Come on." Cloud murmured. "We'll get you washed up. Sephiroth, do you—"

"I'm fine." Sephiroth repeated, sliding his hand just once down Zack's back before rising stiffly. His body felt sore from tension and memory. "I'll clean up in here."

Cloud's eyes stayed on him too long, and Sephiroth hesitated before offering both of them a hand up.

"It's alright," He murmured. "It was just bad timing."

Cloud clasped his hand easily, but waited while Zack stayed sitting where he was. He was no longer balled up, but was gazing down at the floor with a painfully glum look. 'Kicked puppy' Sephiroth thought with a frown.

"Zack." He said. "No harm done."

"I just…"

"If you're worried you can bring me an almond." Sephiroth said when Zack petered out. "If it will help you feel better to make up to me."

Zack was silent a moment. Then a grin broke out on his face, and he let out a soft laugh. It seemed to release something. Some pin holding him down. He took Sephiroth's hand, and let the man haul him and Cloud both to their feet.

"At _least_ two almonds." He murmured.

Sephiroth nodded gravely in acceptance. But it didn't stop him from going stiff when Zack stepped forward to wrap him in a tight hug.

"I'm really sorry." He murmured.

"Forgiven." Sephiroth carefully laid one hand on Zack's back, not releasing Cloud's fingers with his other hand.

From the look Cloud was giving him, Sephiroth thought he might need a little more than an almond to get back on his lover's good side. It didn't surprise him. He'd always known one day he'd start letting Cloud down. But Cloud was still holding his hand. That was enough.

"Don't push too hard." Cloud murmured as Zack stepped away from Sephiroth. It took Sephiroth a moment to realize that he was the one being addressed.

"What?"

"Take it easy cleaning." Cloud rephrased. Then he stepped forward and pressed against Sephiroth as well. Not quite a hug, but something like one. His hands rested lightly on Sephiroth's shoulders, and he pressed a closed-lipped kiss to the base of Sephiroth's throat.

"I don't think I'm up for any more surprises like that." He said, his voice strangely shaken.

"You said yourself I'm fine." Sephiroth murmured, low and for Cloud's ears only.

"That doesn't mean I wasn't afraid." Cloud whispered in return.

"If you two want a minute…"

"No, we're good." Cloud said, stepping back from Sephiroth and squeezing his arm lightly.

"We're good." Sephiroth repeated, more because it sounded nice than because he was 100% on board with anything at that moment.

He watched Cloud walk with the still shaking Zack out of the room. It was striking, seeing them like this. Zack was still taller, still clearly stronger—or would be again soon—but Cloud walked straight and proud and strong while Zack half-stooped at his side. Still too thin, still too weary, his hair drooping and his shoulders curved.

Sephiroth shook away the mental image and went to gather the spilled bowls of ice cream and knocked over mug and glass. None of them had shattered this time, saved by the carpet, but he was definitely going to need a new carpet. There would be no getting chocolate stains out of the cream plush floor.

If he'd thought barbeque potato chip crumbles on chocolate icing were gross in a bowl, he was significantly less enthralled with them on his floor.

But it gave his mind something to focus on. His hands something to do. That was more than enough of a mercy for the moment. He could still feel phantom hands around his throat. The shadows in the apartment seemed to coil with him alone in the room.

They aren't real, he told himself, and kept picking bits of potato chip out of the carpet.

"How's it healing?" Cloud's voice in the other room.

"It's fine. I'm not completely useless."

"You're not useless at all, Zack. Come on."

"Spike—"

"No, I'm serious. You're not a toaster. You know that. I've heard you tell Sephiroth at least three times."

"Heh. Yeah…"

"I know it's hard."

"No way it was going to be easy, I guess. While I was there…"

He trailed off. Sephiroth set the crumbs he'd retrieved in the empty bowl and rose to go to the kitchen. He retrieved one of his wash clothes and the spray bottle of carpet cleaner he kept around, just in case. He'd gotten the first one after he came home bloody one day and left a spot on the carpet. Then he'd befriended Zack, and cleaning the carpet had become significantly more regular. Dropped pizza slices, spilled soda… He'd taken to making Zack clean up his own messes. But he wasn't about to in this circumstance.

A shaking breath from the bathroom. The sound of running water. The scent of blood, rehydrated, washed away.

"While I was there, I used to daydream about coming home. About you squeezing me in a hug, and Sephiroth all aloof but relieved. About… About her. But I stopped daring to dream. I stopped hoping. It hurt too much, after a while."

"Of course." Cloud's voice was always the right pitch, Sephiroth thought. Always just the right edge of sure and gentle.

"But I sure as hell never thought it would be like this," Zack whispered. Sephiroth sprayed foam on the carpet. Watched it expand out of the bottle. Thought maybe there was a metaphor in that. Thought probably it was just spray-foam.

"Let me see," Cloud said, "Don't chew them more, okay?"

"Don't baby me, Cloud. I know it's dumb."

"I didn't say that."

"Look. All healing."

"I'm glad. Thanks Zack."

"I'm really sorry, Cloud."

"I know that. We both do. You don't have to keep apologizing. Promise. You've already been forgiven."

"You're as bad as he is, you know that?"

"What?"

"You don't have to put up the front, Spike. Apparently we're all falling apart tonight."

Sephiroth pressed the towel down into the foam, rubbing slow, concentric circles, one after another, massaging the stain out of the carpet.

"Still trying to protect me." Cloud murmured.

"Always trying to protect you. I'm really sorry. I know you were so scared."

Sephiroth closed his eyes, his motions going still, his heart aching. He scared Cloud. Scared him again. How many times. How many times would Cloud see him wounded or frightened, when he should be untouchable.

"He's okay," Cloud repeated, though his voice trembled a little.

"Go talk to him," Zack urged. "I'm alright. I could just use a moment."

Right. They were coming back. They were worried about him. _He'd promised to tell them…_

"Just for a minute," Cloud said softly. "As soon as you're ready, okay?"

"I'll bring the almonds." Zack joked, the words a little too strained to be entirely funny.

"Thank you," Cloud whispered, his voice lower, almost secretive.

Sephiroth forced his eyes to focus on the floor. He'd drifted off. Phased out again. The foam was clearing. He lifted the rag, and stared at the stain. Metaphor, he thought, blankly. There were some things that couldn't be wiped out. He would just have to get a new carpet.

If only he could get a new brain.

"Hey," Cloud said, closer now, the doorway.

"Are you alright?" Sephiroth responded. Automatic. Worried. True enough.

"No." Cloud crossed the space between them in steady, slow steps. "Not really."

"Oh," Sephiroth's voice cracked, despite himself. He rubbed the carpet with his cloth twice more, till Cloud knelt before him. Put a hand on his hand. Stilled his anxious motions.

"I'm sorry." Sephiroth said, lifting his eyes to his lover.

"Me too." Cloud's other hand reached forward, pushing back Sephiroth's hair, tucking it behind his ear. His fingers strayed to his throat. Sephiroth could still feel drying blood there from Zack's cautious touch where he'd wounded.

"I have nothing for this." Sephiroth said bleakly. He didn't mean the floor.

"I know," Cloud murmured, sliding closer.

Sephiroth wrapped his arms around Cloud's waist on automatic, letting the rag fall to the floor. He let Cloud enfold him in a hug, curling easily into his lap. Let Cloud's hands coil gently in his hair and stroke over his scalp.

It was so easy to give in. Sephiroth turned his head down, letting Cloud have better access to stroking his hair. Let himself press his face to Cloud's shoulder. Inhale his scent. Stress-tinted as it was. Let himself breathe, and breathe, and breathe.

"I can feel you locking up Sephiroth." Cloud said, sad and quiet. "Are you that unwilling to talk to us?"

"It's dangerous." Sephiroth murmured, his voice muffled against Cloud's shirt.

"You've told me some before," Cloud prodded.

"Too much already."

"Zack's your friend, Seph. We just want to help."

Sephiroth clenched his jaw, and did not answer. Cloud accepted his silence, stroking his hand slowly through Sephiroth's hair, as far as he could reach, before untangling his fingers and starting again.

"It's going to be okay," Cloud's voice sank into him like a stone through water. "Whatever you're afraid of, it's going to be okay, Sephiroth. You're not alone."

He felt so far away. So deep in the dark. The quiet. Cloud's voice and touches reached him—they always did—but he almost wished they didn't right now. Wished he could strand himself in the dark and stay there. Cloud and Zack… They had each other. They'd be alright if he shut them out.

But he let Cloud stay in his lap. Let his hands keep carding through his hair. Weak, he accused himself. So, so weak…

He lifted his head when he heard footsteps, and shifted his hand to rest on Cloud's back. The Zack who walked into the room was much calmer than the Zack who had left it. He was no longer hyperventilating. His breaths were measured and controlled in such a way that it was obvious he was forcing them to be. He smiled softly when he saw the two of them, and moved over carefully.

"Here," He said, producing an almond for each of them. "To make _al_mends."

He gave a weak laugh at his pun. Cloud was helpless to resist. He laughed too, even as Sephiroth let out a quiet moan. Almends. Of course.

"You don't have to tell," Zack said after a moment, as Cloud took both of the nuts from him. "If it's this hard on you Seph…"

"No," Sephiroth murmured, letting out a slow breath and squinting his eyes open. "The price is more than fair."

He blinked when Cloud offered an almond to his lips, but let himself be fed the treat, munching it quietly.

"You've been out of the loop a while now, I'm afraid," Cloud said to Zack. "Sephiroth's afraid you'll get in trouble on his behalf."

"And you won't?" Zack scoffed. "Sephiroth severely underestimates you."

"Neither of you are to do _anything_." Sephiroth barked.

He didn't realize how severe he'd sounded until both of them had jumped and turned uneasy eyes to him. Cloud didn't quite slide out of his lap, but his hand loosened in his hair decidedly, trailing to his shoulder. Zack, on the other hand, had taken a full step back, his hands half-lifted.

Sephiroth closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath into the silence that followed.

"If I'm to tell you this, you have to understand." He kept his voice very low, this time. No more snapping. But it came out dangerously quiet. Good, he thought.

"No one can ever know. You cannot breathe a word, cannot act, cannot _change_ anything. To do so would be to forfeit all our careers. And more. It would be to endanger your health and safety. And mine as well."

Could he really do this? Could he put this weight on them? It wasn't fair to them. They were _safe_ from Hojo now, as they were. Thinking him only eccentric. His experiments harmless. Cloud already knew too much. Already Sephiroth had seen his lover glare at Hojo with open anger.

He opened his eyes again when they were silent, looking between their grim faces. Cloud looked serious. Frustrated. Zack just looked confused, and maybe… Hurt?

"Promise me." He demanded, eyes on Zack. "No one can know. Nothing can change."

"You're freaking me out a little," Zack said, his eyes tracing over Sephiroth's face, looking for signals Sephiroth himself never would have picked up on himself.

"Promise." Sephiroth repeated.

"No one will know." Zack said, moving over slowly. "Promise."

"Promise." Cloud echoed, sliding out of Sephiroth's lap to sit beside him, at a slight angle, leaving space for Zack.

Zack dropped to sit nearby less than elegantly, and winced at the motion. Cloud reached out, drawing Zack closer, till the three of them sat almost knee to knee.

And that was it. Excuses up. Time out. He'd promised. They were waiting. He had to deliver. Lie, he urged himself.

But their eyes. Cloud's eyes. Zack's… they were so open. So earnest. So concerned. Zack had reached deep and spoken about the darkest moments in his life to date. How could Sephiroth witness that, break under that, and then offer any less himself…

"It is nothing compared to what you've gone through." He said, self-conscious at their attention. But Zack only shook his head, and curled his hands in his lap. So Sephiroth picked the rag off the ground, folding it into a neat, damp square, and started as plainly as he could. Get it over with, he thought. Pull out the sword.

"You know I was raised in the science department," He looked to Zack, waiting for his nod before continuing. "When I was a child, roughly eleven or twelve, I was deeply cocky. Prideful and secure in my superiority."

'_Some things never change_,' someone should have muttered. But Genesis was not there to be snide and frosty. Zack looked like he wanted to joke, but his lip only twitched upwards at the corner, before tugging back into a frown.

Facts, Sephiroth said to himself. Just tell them the facts. Like a mission log, like a report, like the debriefing Zack would soon go through.

"My strength was unsurpassed, and it was beginning to go to my head. I made powerful enemies."

'_Why would I let you test me? I'm already perfect. I don't need you or your people to tell me that.'_

_Hojo's eyes had narrowed behind his glasses, a strange combination of anger and challenge and pride._

'_So you think you don't 'need' me anymore?'_

'_I never needed you to start with, old man.'_

He skipped the conversation in his telling. It made him feel queasy to so much as think about it. His arrogance, his foolishness. It was never about need.

"It made me impossible to work with, so Hojo decided to make certain I knew what it was to feel helpless. I still do not know what he used on me. He told me at the time that it was merely a mako inhibitor, that he was only undoing what he had given me from the start. I believe now that it was more than that. A paralytic of some kind."

Cloud twitched. Sephiroth did not meet his eyes. Cloud had seen the paralytic's effect on Sephiroth first hand, after all.

"He put me in the training room. Said if I was so self-sufficient to work without his 'help' he was happy to let me. Then he unleashed a bahamut."

He looked away as Zack sucked in a breath. He was trying not to think about the people watching him.

In his mind's eye he could still see it. The floor of the main arena opening. The heavy sound of a single wing flap before the monster was with him. The heavy sound of its breath. The muscles moving beneath its skin as it shifted and scanned for its opponent. The way the great yellow eyes fixated on him. Hojo's face, barely visible behind the shining glass. Sephiroth's body, not moving. His arms, not responding. His legs trembling with the effort to get upright.

'_No, Professor, I can't. I can't move, I…'_

'_You already said you don't want my help, boy. Handle it yourself.'_

"It was very nearly fatal." Sephiroth said impassively, as if he couldn't still feel his heart thundering in his chest, the breath stalling in his lungs from fear, the hot breath of the bahamut barreling down on him. "I assume Hojo put a stop to it before it was. I was unconscious within a few minutes."

Not before he'd broken and begged. Not before he'd clawed helplessly towards the glass, begging his creator for help. Not before the bladed claws were in his back again and he was screaming, and screaming and screaming...

"Once I had recovered from the damage, my training intensified in preparation for the war. I did not object to the professor's work again, and the experience was not repeated. Occasionally I still have an adverse response when feeling trapped."

Done, he thought, adding a period to the end of his sentence in his mind. Finished. Deal completed. He'd told them what he flashed back to. They didn't need the dirty details. Didn't need to know how he'd looked to Hojo for help with the monster's claws buried in his gut. Didn't need to know how he'd clenched his eyes shut and choked back a scream and told himself he deserved this, that he'd brought it on himself.

They didn't need to know how he'd given up on fighting. How Hojo's soft laugh had filtered into the room while the Bahamut played with him like a cat to a mouse. How strangely sad his chuckle had sounded. How Sephiroth had quietly hoped that this was the end, and he wouldn't wake up to another grueling, miserable, lonely day. How he'd wondered if he'd see Professor Gast again when the Bahamut killed him.

He forced his eyes up. Tried to gather himself. His thoughts were devolving and scrambled still, coming too fast and too emotional for him to sort through effectively. He looked towards his friends, but not directly at them.

"That's all I flashed back to." He finished. "That feeling. Not even the event, really. Just the sensation. I apologize again for falling apart when you had need of me, Zack."

"He nearly killed you." Zack said, his voice small and shaking. "On purpose."

"I am reasonably sure he had reason to believe I would not die." Sephiroth shrugged with one shoulder, trying to talk his eyes into focusing on Zack. He stroked his fingertips over the carpet, trying to anchor himself to the feel of it.

He swallowed hard when he saw the anger and tears mingling in Zack's eyes.

"I've fought his bahamuts and his experiments." Zack said, a little too sharp to be worried. "I've gone down there for ages and played his games. And you never said anything?"

"There is nothing to be done." Sephiroth shook his head. It felt good, the small motion. He continued it a beat too long before catching himself and going still. "It was many years ago now, Zack."

"It's unforgivable." Zack snapped. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I did not trust your discretion." Sephiroth said, too tired to skirt the truth. "And the incident had not come to mind for many years. I do not make a habit of being helpless."

He tried not to notice Cloud shifting a little as if he wanted to argue that point…

"Hojo is still in charge of me." He continued, forcing his gaze to meet Zack's. "He ensures that I remain the strongest. In return my perfection secures his position as lead scientist at Shinra. It is a symbiosis, if an uneasy one."

"Except he keeps hurting you." Cloud blurted, his voice colored with rage.

Sephiroth didn't flinch. He didn't look at his lover. He gazed straight at Zack, and held eye contact.

"Was that sufficient?" He asked, even as Zack turned to Cloud with worried eyes, ignoring him.

"What?"

"Was my answer sufficient, and are you capable of continuing?"

"Sephiroth—"

"I do not want this to be about me. I have my own problems, I admit. But they are not pressing at this moment. Yours are. I am in no danger, and I will not fall apart on you again."

There was a strained silence for a moment. Then Cloud let out a breath.

"He's right, Zack," He murmured, reaching out to rest his hand on Zack's knee. "You still want to work through things, right? Like you said, one of the Turks would be in real danger if that was them you'd attacked."

Zack's eyes gazed fixedly at Sephiroth, and Sephiroth resisted the urge to fidget. To shift. Some little part of him wished he'd kept his mouth closed. Another piece of him was advocating for a nice, neat double homicide. Then neither of them would continue pushing, or pestering, or digging…

He clenched his jaw and his fists in retribution for the thought. Not them. Not for anything. No matter how vulnerable they had made him.

Zack's blue eyes flickered in thought. Then he let out a breath and shuffled forward on his knees. Sephiroth held very still while Zack wrapped him in a careful hug, squeezing him close. He glanced to Cloud for backup, but got only a very small smile of encouragement. He placed his hands on Zack's back and rubbed up and down slowly in response. He could feel every knotted ridge of his spine still. He made a mental note to fix them a midnight snack.

He glanced to the clock and revised his mental note. A 4 am snack.

"I'm still sorry I hurt you," Zack murmured. "And I'm sorry you were hurt before."

"Forgiven." Sephiroth murmured. "And for the other, completely out of your control. You were not even here or—"

Zack gave a low chuckle, sitting back and crossing his legs, still watching Sephiroth closely.

"Empathy, not responsibility." He clarified. "Like you being sorry I got hurt."

No, Sephiroth thought. That's responsibility.

"Thanks, though." Zack let out a breath. "For telling me… Sometime soon, I want to know more, okay? I can tell there's a lot…"

"Sometime." Sephiroth promised vaguely. Maybe at Hojo's funeral. The man _would_ die some day… Right?

"So how about it?" Cloud asked, shifting closer to both of them, pressing up close enough to Sephiroth's side for Sephiroth to feel the heat of his body. "Do you want me to make some tea before you start up again?"

"I think I've broken enough tea cups." Zack laughed, his smile a little strained, but not the frightening kind. "I'll… I should just tell you. Holding back, it's just making it worse."

"Yeah," Cloud said, his words pointed and his eyes cutting to Sephiroth. "Probably right."

Sephiroth let the thought roll off him like rain water, and fought the urge to catch Cloud up in a tight hug right then and there. It would have been selfish, needy, desperate…

And if the memory with Hojo had been anything, it had reminded him why he'd never dared trust too deeply in the people around him.

"Well then," Zack said, still close after the gentle hug he'd enfolded Sephiroth in. "I guess there's nothing for it but to tell you about…"

He paused a beat. His head twitched left. The sharp smile crossed his lips.

_The image in his mind of Zachary face down in the mud, laughing as he struggled to keep breathing, as he was electrocuted, as he was filmed…_

"Aerith."


End file.
